


Sweet Child of Mine

by TheFreakZone



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-08-30 05:54:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8520988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFreakZone/pseuds/TheFreakZone
Summary: Then, Antonio was happy and had everything he ever dreamt of having; now, he couldn't be worse. Then, life was worth living; now, everything is dark and looks like a cruel joke. Then, it only took one day to ruin his life; now, in just one day he'll have to rethink all he thought he knew.





	1. Then (I)

**Author's Note:**

> AN: well... For starters, this story doesn't have anything to do with Guns N' Roses' song, but I just couldn't come up with a better title and this kinda fits. It might change if I come up with something better.  
> This is different from anything I've written before, but I'm pretty happy with the result; I hope you lot enjoy it :) English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistake you might find.  
> Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia (I wish).

**Then (I)**

 

He was lost. There was no denying it. Antonio felt his lower lip tremble as he turned around, trying to see something, anything, that would lead him back home. Unfortunately, all the trees around him looked the same, and after having turned a few more times, he realized he now had no idea from where he had stepped into the clearing in the first place. He hugged himself, trying with all his might to stop the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. He would NOT cry, because Papa always said that men don't cry, and that one time he had because he had fallen on some thorny bushes, João had laughed at him and called him a pussy.

A cold gust blew, howling as it slid through the forest, and Antonio forgot what Papa said and that one time João had mocked him: he was lost and alone and scared and cold— surely that authorized him to cry. So he cried. He cried for a long time, then stopped, then realized that crying had not improved his situation at all, and then he cried some more.

He was starting to come to terms with the fact that he was going to die in that forest when someone spoke just behind his back:

"Will you quit that? It's annoying!"

Startled, Antonio jumped, letting out a shriek. Instead of turning, his panicked mind urged him to seek refuge behind the nearest tree. Once he felt relatively safer, he gathered up all the courage he could summon and peeped back at the clearing from behind the trunk.

In the middle of the clearing stood a girl. She had long, golden hair tucked into two pigtails, and her big, bright eyes looked at him with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. "I'm not going to eat you, you know," she said, a smirk forming on her lips while she crossed her arms.

"Who knows," Antonio replied. "My brother says that there are cannibals in this forest." Despite his words, he left the safety of the tree and walked towards her. She might be able to help him go back home; and if she turned out to be a man-eating savage— well, he had realized earlier that he was going to die anyway.

"That's bollocks," the girl stated, rolling her eyes. "There are no cannibals in the forest: the faeries kicked them out."

"Faeries?! Those are real?!" he panicked. Mama always told him to be wary of anything remotely unnatural. She said that magical beings had fun tormenting humans, and Antonio had no reason to doubt whatever his Mama told him.

"Of course they're not, silly!" she snorted. "How old are you? Seven?"

"And eight months!" he yelled in protest.

The girl raised an eyebrow —an incredibly thick eyebrow, Antonio noticed— before bursting out laughing. "Seven years and eight months, alright," she said mockingly. "You're still a toddler to me, though."

"Oh yeah? How old are you?"

"Ten! I'm much older than you," she smirked, "and that means you have to obey me."

Antonio pouted. He couldn't argue against that: at home, too, he had to comply to whatever João told him to do because he was the older brother. Sometimes he wished Mama and Papa would have another kid just so he could boss someone around. "It's not fair," he grunted. "And who are you anyway? You're not from the village," he pointed out, throwing a suspicious glance at her.

"No, I'm not," she admitted. "I live on the other end of the forest."

"Isn't that too far away?" Antonio asked, suddenly worried. "Will you get back home before twilight? Mama always says that the forest is the most dangerous at night."

She chuckled. "Aren't you the cutest thing?" she said, suddenly leaping forward to ruffle his hair.

Annoyed, Antonio slapped her hand away and, not knowing what to say, stuck his tongue out at her. Being this close, he realized that her eyes, just like his own, were breathtakingly green. He also noticed that her pale skin was covered in freckles, particularly her nose and cheeks.

"As endearing as it may be having you worry about me," she said, sarcasm dripping from every word, "you don't have to." She leaned over him, making Antonio painfully aware of their height difference. "I know this forest as if I lived here."

Those last few words got stuck in Antonio's head in repeat, like a broken record. I know this forest as if I lived here. I know this forest as if I lived here. I know this forest—

"You know the forest?" he asked once the initial shock was gone.

"Were you listening to me?" she scolded. "Yes, I do know the forest."

"Then could you—?" he blurted, stopping mid-sentence because of a sudden attack of shyness and embarrassment. The girl looked intensely at him, amusement evident in her eyes, and Antonio felt his face grow hot as he blushed. "Could you— could you guide me home?"

"Are you lost?"

"Obviously." I wouldn't be here with you if I weren't, he thought. But he didn't say it out loud, because Papa had taught him to be nice to the ladies —although it could be argued whether the girl in front of him was indeed a lady—, and because Mama had taught him to be nice to people, and because João had once told him that he should be nice to people to whom he wanted to ask for a favour.

The girl let out a pondering "hmm", theatrically resting her chin in her hand and looking at Antonio through half-lidded eyes. "I think I could, yes, maybe—" she stopped abruptly, smirking widely, and Antonio knew he wasn't going to like what came next. "Oh, what's the magic word?"

If Antonio had thought before that he couldn't blush anymore, he had been terribly wrong. As it turned out, he could, and he did. His face was so red and felt so hot that he wouldn't have been surprised if it had exploded. "Pardon me, Miss," he said, putting his best I've-never-broken-a-single-plate-in-my-life voice, "would you be so kind to please show me the way back home, if it's not too much of a bother?"

"My, my, how can I say no to such a well-mannered boy?" she giggled, making Antonio roll his eyes. "Okay, yes, I'll take you home." Before Antonio could react, she grabbed his hand and began to walk impetuously. "Hurry up! If we move fast, we'll get to your village right before the sun sets!"

She did not lie. Antonio found himself astonished when they finally left the trees behind to appear on the dust track that led to his village. The girl had guided him without a doubt through the forest, not even once had she stopped— and the sun hadn't even begun to hide behind the mountains! Antonio laughed joyfully, running down the path while happily shouting: "We did it! We did it!" He hadn't advanced much when he turned to thank her; but, to his surprise, the girl had already gone. I guess she wants to be at her home the sooner she can, he mused, and she has a long way to go.

He stared at the forest with a sad pout. Even though she had scared him to death, even though she had mocked him, even though she had left without giving him the chance to say "goodbye" or "thank you"— well, he had to admit, deep inside, that she was a pretty cool girl.

Not that he'd ever say that out loud.

~{§}~

A week later, Antonio wandered through the forest. He was trying to get back to the clearing where he had met that peculiar girl, to no avail. Not for the first time, he asked himself why he was doing that. What were the chances of them meeting again? Even if he got to the clearing, how could he be sure that she would be there? Groaning, he sat down on a rock, cursing out loud his impulsive behaviour.

"What has happened to my well-mannered boy, who now speaks with a foul sailor's mouth?"

He turned faster than what he thought he could, and there she was: leaning against a tree, arms crossed before her chest, a playful smirk in her lips and an amused glint in her eyes. She looked so natural, one may think she had been rehearsing that pose for all her life. Suddenly speechless, Antonio needed a few moments —during which he opened and closed his mouth without emitting any sound— until he could utter a simple "hi".

"Hi," she repeated, winking, and waited for him to speak.

However, Antonio was completely out of words. Or rather, there were so many things he wanted to say that he didn't know where to start. He frowned, trying to put his thoughts in order, while silence grew more and more awkward around them.

"How did you find me?" he finally managed to blurt out.

"Oh, the faeries told me you were in the forest and guided me here," she answered; after seeing Antonio's horrified face, however, she was quick to deny it: "I'm kidding! Relax, I'm just kidding! Silly, I told you the other day that faeries don't exist," she said, speaking slow and vocalizing more than necessary —offending Antonio to no end—. "I've just been hanging around here for the last few days. I was expecting you to come sooner or later— and it has taken you a while," she ended, faking a hurt pout.

"I-I was grounded," Antonio confessed, a slight blush colouring his cheeks. "My parents were mad at me for arriving so late the other day."

"Ah, so you came back to me at the first chance you got," she giggled. "That's so cute!"

Antonio shot her a murderous glance. "I only wanted to thank you," he informed coldly. "You left so fast I didn't have the chance."

"You're welcome," she smiled, for once not sarcastically or mockingly. After a few moments, she added: "Is that the only reason why you wanted to see me again?"

The boy shrugged. Truth is, he wasn't sure. That's what he had kept telling himself, that he only wanted to meet her again to thank her for her help; however, now that he had already done that, he found that he didn't want to leave, not yet. He bit his lower lip, looking everywhere but at the girl's face. "I don't even know your name," he muttered.

"Well, I don't know yours either," she pointed out; yet she answered anyway: "I'm Alice. What about you?"

Alice. That was a nice name. Antonio smiled shyly and told her his name. "Pleased to meet you," he said, stretching his arm towards her.

"The pleasure's mine," Alice said, shaking his hand with a half-smile on her face.

~{§}~

They began to meet periodically. Alice wanted to make the clearing in which they had first met their meeting point, but since Antonio didn't trust himself to learn the way there, she agreed to change it. Instead, she would wait for him at the edge of the forest, close to his village, and then they would roam around.

On their strolls, Alice told him about the forest: she spoke to him about the different kinds of trees, she taught him how to recognize different animal footprints, she made him learn which berries were poisonous and which weren't. Antonio, on the other hand, told her about his village: he talked non-stop about his very own tiny garden, he told her all the antics his brother and he pulled off, he complained about his mean tutor.

Sometimes they would have a race— Alice won every single time, which made Antonio yell that it was highly unfair, since she was older, thus taller, thus had longer legs. She only laughed at that and said he was so cute when he was mad —which only angered him further—.

"I've named it Invencible!" Antonio proclaimed proudly.

It had been Alice's idea: they had to make tiny boats with whatever they could find to later have them race on the creek. Antonio, who was dead set on winning, had put a lot of effort in what he claimed to be "the best ship ever", and his friend had to admit that, although coarse, it was a really nice boat. He had even made a tiny flag with a leaf in which he had carved the letter 'A'; however, after Alice had pointed out that it was her initial too, he had removed it.

"Invincible, huh? We'll see about that," she teased.

After agreeing the start and end of the race, they set their boats on the start line. Alice made the countdown; when she yelled "GO!", both of them set their boats free and began to run beside the creek, shouting encouraging words. Invencible soon took the lead, which made Antonio cry out happily. He was a skilled craftsman, even at a young age, and had provided his boat with all it needed to defeat the strong current and the dangerous rocks.

"And the winner is—!" he exclaimed while Invencible came closer and closer to the finish line.

Suddenly, a pebble was thrown from somewhere behind his back with spot-on precision: it hit his precious boat and knocked it over. Horrified, Antonio could only watch as Invencible disappeared under the water and Alice's boat calmly crossed the line.

"And the winner is me, apparently," she said mockingly.

Antonio turned to face her, with an expression of both disbelief and betrayal. "You cheated!" he screamed. "You threw a rock at Invencible, you sank it!"

Alice made a gesture of innocence with her hands, smiling. "Me? I would never do that."

"Yes you did! I saw you!"

"How could you see me if you were facing the other way?"

"You just practically admitted that you did it!"

"Oh, come on… It's not my fault that you chose to call it 'invincible' instead of 'unsinkable'."

Antonio opened his mouth, indignant, and it took him a few moments to react. "YOU WITCH!" he yelled, running towards her. When he reached her, by pure impulse, he kicked her on the shin.

Alice let out a yelp of pain. Her friend's outburst had taken her completely by surprise. "You little—!" Decided to fight back, she grabbed Antonio's arm as he tried to retreat and pulled so hard that he fell to the ground; however, the boy had decided that, if he fell, he wouldn't fall alone, and dragged Alice with him.

"I'll teach you to go around sinking other people's ships!"

"You don't need to teach me! I already excel at that, you just saw it!"

The wrestling soon became another game. None of them knew for how long they ran after the other, pushing and pulling and laughing, trying to pin down the other against the ground. They decided to call it a day after Alice accidentally elbowed Antonio on the face so hard that his nose started to bleed.

"I'll let you know," Antonio said with a nasal voice, a handkerchief pressed against his bloody nose, "that I'm still mad at you for what you did."

"What did I do?" Alice asked innocently.

They were lying together on the ground. Alice's hair was tousled and full of pine needles; Antonio's shirt was torn and bloodstained. Nothing important: it was a price both of them were willing to pay if it meant having fun. (Antonio highly doubted that Mama would agree with him. Then again, he and Mama never saw eye to eye when it came to what could and couldn't be done while playing.)

"You know what you did," he pouted. Upset, he got up and began to walk away. "I'm going home. I can't stay with you ship-murderer one minute longer."

Alice snickered and quietly made a countdown: when she said "three", some footsteps reached her; after she said "one", someone spoke.

"… I don't know the way back," Antonio mumbled, downcast.

This time, Alice laughed out loud. It did no good to Antonio's shattered pride.

"Come on— let's get you home."

~{§}~

They were like night and day. Antonio was a sweet child who loved talking and doing something different every day; while Alice, on the other hand, almost all the time spoke sarcastically and didn't like breaking her routines. It took them ages to decide what to do, and the days they didn't argue about something mundane were scarce. However, despite their personalities being so different —or perhaps precisely because of it—, they soon became the best of friends. Antonio knew he could trust Alice with his problems and often asked her for advice; in return, he became the pair of ears that would listen to whatever she wanted to complain about.

As they grew up, the conversation topics evolved as well. Alice, being a few years older, was the one who first brought them up; and Antonio followed gladly.

"I'm sorry, but I don't believe that," he chuckled, earning a hurt look from Alice.

"Why wouldn't you believe that yesterday a guy confessed to me?"

"Because… I don't know," he shrugged. "Because it's you, I guess."

Alice let out an outraged gasp. "What is that supposed to mean? You should know that I have plenty of suitors."

"Yeah, sure," he teased. "How about you introduce us?"

"No way. I wouldn't like for them to see the loser I spend my time with."

Antonio laughed, immune to Alice's insults. With time, he had learnt to read beyond her everlasting sarcasm and mean words, and he knew she rarely meant what she said.

"Okay, let's go back to your wooer. Are you going to marry him and be happy and have plenty of kids?"

She snorted and hit him on the shoulder. "I don't know. I mean, he's handsome… but he's also loud, and he doesn't know when to shut his big mouth, and—"

"Basically, he's obnoxious."

"Yes, that's the word." She frowned. "It seems I'm going to have to break his heart."

"Oh, don't worry about him: I'm certain he'll meet someone much better than you."

Offended, Alice threw at him the first thing she could think of, which happened to be the apple she was eating. Antonio, who out of experience was expecting a projectile, caught it mid-air and bit it, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Aren't you going to ask me if I have any admirers?"

"You?" she laughed. "Please, you're still a kid."

"I'm not!" he protested. "I'm a man!"

"You're thirteen."

"And five months!"

"Still thirteen," she said in a tone that didn't give room for an argument. "Brat."

"I'm called a man at the village," he pouted.

"Grow a beard and then we'll talk."

Accepting that the battle was lost before it started, Antonio decided to shut up before Alice's verbal assault made him cry —which had happened more than once before— and absently gave another bite to the apple. Alice was very fond of them and often brought some with her so they could have a snack when hunger attacked.

"Hey, Alice— if you ever get married, will I be invited to the wedding?"

"Sure." She looked at him and smirked. "You'll be the prettiest of all the bridesmaids."

Sometimes Antonio wondered why they were friends.

~{§}~

Antonio had barely turned seventeen when he first had a wet dream. He woke up in the middle of the night, panting, sweaty, and hard, and for the next ten minutes he just laid there, eyes wide open, his gaze fixed somewhere in the ceiling, trying to ease his heartbeat. It wasn't a new feeling, not at all: he had started to explore his body a few years ago, and he wasn't unfamiliar with morning woods. No, that wasn't what was shaking him.

He didn't get any sleep for the rest of the night. His mind was too busy trying to understand why the dream had been, of all people, with her.

When they met the following day, Alice instantly noticed that there was something wrong with her friend: he shunned every time she got too close, he avoided looking her in the eye, and he spoke much less than usual. She kept asking what happened, he kept answering that he hadn't slept well; and she only stopped her interrogatory after she realized she wouldn't be getting the truth —because she was certain that there was more behind Antonio's strange behaviour than a bad night—.

"I brought some books. Fancy some reading?"

"Yeah, great."

Alice looked at him with a weird expression on her face before leading the way to their reading spot. It was nothing special, just a space between two trees in which they both could sit comfortably. The sun reached them easily and the creek flowed close, making that one spot the perfect place to relax and just spend a day doing nothing. Those, usually, were Antonio's favourites, but that day he didn't seem to be excited— not even slightly pleased! Alice was starting to get pissed, because it was obvious that something was bothering Antonio —it had always amazed her how easily his friend let out his emotions, even when he tried with all his might to keep them at bay—, and one may think that, after almost ten years of friendship, he'd trust her enough to tell her anything. That didn't seem to be the case, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. Hurt? Confused? Whatever it was, she didn't like it. She gave Antonio a couple of books so he could choose one before submerging into her own— luckily, books never failed to make her forget about her problems.

Antonio picked a book at random and opened it. He had the intention of reading, he wanted —needed— to distract his mind. However, he had barely read one page when he found himself staring at Alice from behind his book. He was only now noticing how beautiful she looked while reading: bright green eyes moving from left to right, and lips slightly parted as she took the book in. He saw her eyes widen, he saw her purse her lips, he saw her hold in a gasp… Before he knew it, he had put down his book and looked at her without discretion. After all, Alice never paid any attention to her surroundings while reading— he could start to juggle and she wouldn't even notice. He smiled without even noticing.

Even though Antonio had grown to know that part of the forest quite well, Alice still walked him home out of habit. They usually invested that time in planning what to do the next time they met; that day, however, Antonio remained as quiet as he had been the whole morning.

"How was the book?"

"Hmm—? Oh, it was fine."

Alice narrowed her eyes and shot him a disapproving look. She knew her friend hadn't read at all— mostly because, if he had, he would have screamed after turning a page and finding a cute family of spiders she had put in the book. Her patience had finally drained: she stopped, grabbed Antonio's arm and firmly pulled to make him face her.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she screamed. "Don't tell me that it's nothing or that you had a bad night, because I'm not buying that! Will you please just tell me what's the matter?"

Antonio, who clearly wasn't expecting that, opened and closed his mouth in shock for a few moments. His eyes moved from left to right, up and down, never stopping in the same spot for more than a brief second, and they avoided crossing with Alice's burning gaze.

"Is there something I can do to help?" she asked more softly, realizing that she might have been a bit too aggressive.

"I— No, not really," he answered, biting his lower lip and shaking his head. "It's just— just a dream I had."

For a moment the whole world fell silent. Alice had raised an eyebrow and her lips were twisted in an expression of disbelief. And then, just like that, she burst out laughing.

"Aren't you a little old to be having nightmares?" she managed to choke out.

Antonio shrugged, feeling his cheeks growing hot. He almost told her that his dream had been quite the opposite of a nightmare, but, for once, he thought twice before speaking.

"So that's it? That's what was bothering you?"

He nodded and Alice shook his head, unbelieving.

"You're the biggest dork I've ever met." Despite herself, and surprising Antonio to no end, she moved forward and hugged him. "See you tomorrow, yes?"

"Okay."

She smiled, turned around and left. Antonio stood there for a few more minutes, wondering why she had had to go and do that. He only hoped that she hadn't noticed his body's reaction.

That night, he dreamt with her again.

~{§}~

It took him a little over two weeks —two weeks of constant stress and sporadic dreams— to finally gather up the courage: he had to tell Alice. He just didn't know how. I can't just go and tell her that I've been having indecent dreams with her. Then again, he couldn't say that he was in love with her either— he didn't know if he was, for starters. More than once he had pondered if what heated his body was love or just plain lust. Whatever it was, what couldn't be denied was that he was indeed attracted to her, and he had to tell her before all the secrecy drove him mad.

He was only scared that he might screw up ten years of friendship over what could be nothing more than a fleeting infatuation.

"Hey, Alice…" he called her.

"Yes?"

She was walking a few steps ahead of him, but stopped and turned to look at him when he spoke.

"Mind if I ask you something?"

"Not at all."

Antonio took in a deep breath. What he was about to do was stupid, but what else could he do? His brother had moved to town a few months ago, and he wasn't close enough with anyone else.

"How— how do you tell someone that you like them?"

"What?" She sounded amused. "Aw, don't tell me that you fancy someone."

He shrugged, blushing, and Alice laughed.

"Why do you ask me? I've never confessed to anyone."

"No, but you've been confessed to, right?"

"I'm so sorry, Antonio, but I highly doubt that you'd be able to match them," she chuckled.

"Well, enlighten me."

For the next twenty minutes, Alice talked non-stop while they strolled. She told him about one guy who had serenaded her at night ("I dropped a bucket of cold water over him— how dared him wake me up in the middle of the night?!"); she told him about another guy that had left a trail of red roses that led to an eighteen-pages letter ("I stopped reading at page two; then I burnt it and hit him for plucking all those roses"); she told him about yet another guy that would follow her around and try to help her in everything ("In the end I smacked him and told him that I'm not bloody useless"). Antonio listened carefully, but with every story he lost more and more his hope.

"That wasn't helpful," he complained once she finished. "None of those worked!"

"They didn't work on me," she pointed out. "I'm sure that whoever you like will appreciate any of those."

"I highly doubt it," he muttered.

"Or— you could be more ordinary and just straight tell them."

"Ordinary doesn't fit me," he smiled. "I'm more crazy. How about I do something crazy?"

"Something crazy?" she looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "And what would that b—?"

Before she could finish speaking, Antonio closed the distance between them, grabbed both sides of her face, and kissed her.

Alice didn't react at all: she was way too shocked to move. So she just stood there, eyes wide open as Antonio's lips pressed against her own; and when he moved away, she felt her jaw drop.

Antonio looked at her, loving the way she looked so surprised. She would have never expected for him to kiss her, right? And then he realized what he had just done. His eyes opened in shock as he abruptly pulled away from her. He mumbled a quick apology, not even caring if she heard it or not, and quickly turned around, fully intending to flee. However, before he could run away, Alice screamed his name and he froze in place.

Alice's head was a whirlwind of questions, and she wasn't going to let Antonio leave without getting an answer. She walked slowly to where he had stopped: he was hiding his face behind his hands and she caught a glimpse of his eyes in between his fingers before he quickly shut them. When she reached him, she realized that he had blushed madly— even his ears had turned beet red.

"That was crazy indeed," she muttered, slowly taking Antonio's hands with her own and pulling them out of the way so she could look at his face. His eyes, however, remained tightly shut. "Antonio," she called softly, "please, look at me."

He complied after a few seconds. His eyelids opened and he looked at Alice, although almost instantly he turned his gaze to the ground.

"My face is here," she said with a low chuckle, trying to catch back Antonio's eye —and, to her surprise, making it—. They both looked into each other's eyes for what seemed an eternity before Alice spoke again, her brow furrowed: "When did you get taller than me?"

And, just like that, she leaned forward and kissed him again.


	2. Now (1)

**Now (1)**

 

Antonio wakes up to a wet pillow. He has dreamt with her again. Not one of those first dreams he had; no, this has been one of those dreams that make his heart ache. His cheeks are still humid from the tears and his head hurts. He doesn't want to get out of bed.

It's past noon when his mother practically drags him out and forces him to eat something. Always the same story.

"Antonio, sweetheart," his mother calls softly. He stops crumbling the bread that he isn't going to eat anyway and looks at her. She has that pitiful look on her face, as usual. "Honey, you can't go on like this."

He sighs. How many times have they had this conversation already? He knows how it goes.

"Mum, I—"

"No, Antonio, I mean it," she cuts him. "I know it was hard, but it's been seven years already. I think it's about time you get over it."

That's new: she has spoken with much more decision than Antonio remembers ever hearing from her. He still throws her a hurt look. She should know he's trying— doesn't she remember how he was for the first few months after the incident?

She sighs. "You need to leave it behind," she presses. "How about you go to town? You can start a new life there. Your brother is perfectly settled down, he can help you."

Antonio doesn't like the idea. He's safe in his village, he knows that, but how can he be sure that he won't meet her in town? It's highly unlikely, because Alice always said that she hates big crowds, but who knows. She also used to say that she loved him.

"Think about it, okay?" his mother asks kindly, reaching for him and caressing his cheek. "If you won't do it for yourself, at least do it for me."

Antonio closes his eyes and tries to fight the urge to cry. How can he say no to that?

He slowly nods and whispers a shaky "okay".

Merely thirty minutes later, however, he's deeply regretting it. His mother won't stop telling him what to do and where to go, giving him an advice he doesn't think he'll follow. He's barely listening anyway, just the necessary so he knows when to say "yes".

"You can move in with your brother for the first weeks, I'm sure he won't mind. Take one or two days to settle down and then look for a job; you're a skilled craftsman, they'll fight for you, you'll see. That will help you a lot, you need to keep yourself entertained and just stop overthinking. When you've made enough money, you can get your own house, and maybe start your own business— Oh! You'd be a wonderful luthier! Remember that guitar you made with your father when you were a kid? I can already see it: you'll become the best luthier of the whole town, and soon nobles and kings will be requiring your services, and—"

Antonio tunes her out completely. The last thing he needs is hearing his mother fantasize about his future— he gave up on it a long time ago. He sighs as he folds a couple of shirts and puts them in his backpack. When she said he'll be leaving tomorrow, he thought that was too rushed; now, however, he can't wait to leave and _be left alone_. He remembers the time when he craved human contact, when his biggest fear was being lonely. He misses it.

"Antonio? Are you listening to me?"

"Yes, mum, I am."

~{§}~

The first thing he has done has been checking in an inn. He doesn't want to be a bother, so he hasn't even told João that he's there. The farce won't last long, though, because his mother thinks he's with his brother and they usually write to each other. When they find out… He doesn't know what he'll do when they find out. He'll worry about that when the time comes.

"How long will you be staying?" the owner of the inn asks. He's tall and well-built, has golden, spiked hair, and a scar over his right eyebrow.

Antonio shrugs. "Uncertain."

The owner gives him a weird look, but since Antonio pays the first four days in advance, he doesn't comment anything. "There you go." He hands him a key. "My sister will guide you to your room— EMMA!"

Practically seconds after his scream, a woman appears by Antonio's side. She's young and pretty, but Antonio shivers when he sees she's blonde and green-eyed— just like Alice.

"Hi, I'm Emma," she introduces herself, smiling widely. "Come with me, I'll show you were you'll sleep."

He follows a bit reluctantly, silently cursing his luck. Out of all inns, he had to choose the one whose owner reminds him of Alice. However, it doesn't take long for him to realize that it's only the looks; personality-wise, they're opposites. Emma is cheerful and lovely, a bright smile constantly lighting up her face, and she chats with him about the most banal things. Antonio thinks that, many years ago, he would have found Emma _very_ attractive. Now, however, she's just another passing human being in the nonsense of his life.

"Here it is," she informs as she opens the door to his room. It's not big, but neither small, and has just a bed, a small desk and a chair. "I hope you like it."

"Yeah, it's fine."

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask me," she says, winking playfully at him before leaving.

Antonio sighs, rubbing his forehead as he sits on the bed. He wonders for how long he should stay there until he can go back home and tell his mother that he's sorry, that he tried but he just isn't made for living in town —or until she discovers that he's not living with João—. A weak, at least, if he doesn't want his mother to kick him back— or worse, come with him. Two weeks? He doesn't know if he's going to be strong enough to hold that long. _Pathetic_ , a little voice whispers in his head. _Shut up_ , he replies weakly before lying down on the bed. He isn't sleepy, but he wants to sleep.

Sometimes he wishes that he won't wake up afterwards.

~{§}~

It's the fourth day since Antonio arrived in town. It's also the first day he has left the inn. If it only depended on him, he wouldn't have; but he doesn't feel very comfortable there. Not since Emma flirts with him at every chance she has. At first it was so subtle that Antonio barely noticed, but with every passing day it has grown more and more direct, and it makes Antonio uncomfortable. It got even worse when Vincent —Emma's brother— witnessed one of Emma's flirtatious moves and since then wouldn't stop glaring at him. So Antonio has decided to go out for a while, with the hope that all of them will cool down in his absence.

He has been wandering around for a while already. The town is colourful and full of life, and he knows that, had his circumstances been different, he would be enjoying it. But right now all he can think about is that the forest in which Alice and him used to meet is much better.

He's walking by the narrowest, darkest alleys when he hears what sounds like a brawl coming from one of them. Not much later, the noises stop and a group of four people emerge from behind the old houses, clapping their shoulders, smiling and laughing, congratulating each other's blows. Antonio watches them as they walk past him and makes sure they're out of sight before going into the alley where they came from. He can't help it— curiosity has always been one of his biggest traits.

He hears the man before he sees him. In fact, the curses that reach his ears are what guide him to where the clear loser of the fight is sat against a wall, his face and clothes stained with blood and dirt. When he hears Antonio's footsteps, he looks at him with a pair of fiery red eyes.

"Have you come to finish what they started?" he asks, surprisingly calm.

Antonio shakes his head slowly, more interested in the man before him than in anything else. He's paler than anyone he's ever met before, and despite his young-looking face, his hair is as grey as an old-man's. Not to mention his eyes— his fierce, dark-red eyes. He never thought that there could possibly be people with that eye-colour.

"What are you looking at? Is there something on my face?"

"Sorry," Antonio apologizes, moving towards him and offering his arm to help him stand. "Are you alright?"

The albino snorts. "What does it look like?" He takes Antonio's help anyway, letting out a pained grunt as he stands. "At least my nose wasn't broken this time," he mutters, running his hands over his face to check his wounds.

"This time? Does this happen often?"

"Well, you must be new around here," the man says mockingly. "Beating up Gilbert is the town's gangs' favourite sport, didn't you know?"

Antonio, half-way through taking out a handkerchief to lend him, stares at him shocked, unable to understand how he can say words like those so casually. "But— but why?" he asks, stunned.

"Because I'm a weirdo," is Gilbert's simple answer. "A freak. A mistake of nature. Want more? I've heard plenty." He grabs the handkerchief and uses it to wipe the blood off his face. "Of course, my personal theory is that they're just jealous of my awesomeness. What's your name, by the way?"

They formally introduce themselves, and as they shake hands, Antonio decides that he likes Gilbert. He's different from any other person he has ever met.

"What brought you here?" Gilbert asks. "I'd like to know what makes a man move into this shithole."

"Oh, just— stuff," Antonio answers, shrugging.

"Stuff? What kind of—?"

_BOOM‼_

Before Gilbert can finish his question, a loud explosion comes from the inside of one of the nearest houses. Both of them jump, startled, as the glass of the windows is blown away, and some parts of the roof catch fire, and a thick, dark smoke begins to rise from the house. Soon, a man comes out, coughing and with tears in his eyes.

"I was so close…" he laments. "So close!"

Then he realizes that he isn't alone and waves at them, smiling widely as if he hadn't just set fire to his house. His blonde hair, despite being held by a ribbon, is messy, and it's covered in ashes; also, his smoke-irritated eyes aren't as strikingly blue as they would have otherwise been.

"My apologies, gentlemen," he says, pointing at the mess that used to be his house, "but I'm afraid my experiment went horribly wrong— again." He then seems to notice Gilbert's bloodstained clothes. "Oh, I'm sorry— I didn't interrupt a brawl, did I?"

"No," both of them answer at the same time.

"I didn't interrupt… _something else_ either, right?" he asks, suggestively wiggling his eyebrows up and down.

"What— no!" they yell together once again; although Gilbert doesn't sound too scandalized, and Antonio is more offended by the fact that someone would dare to think that he'd do anything with someone who isn't Alice —even if the man doesn't even know that Alice exists—.

"Oh, alright."

The three of them just stay there for a while, alternately looking from one to another in complete silence until the blond breaks it:

"You guys wanna go get some drinks?"

Gilbert immediately agrees, and Antonio doesn't see a reason to say no.

~{§}~

It has taken them a while to find a tavern from which they won't be kicked out because of Gilbert. The blond, who has introduced himself as Francis, pays for the first round. According to him, it's to make up for almost blowing them away, and while neither Antonio nor Gilbert care about that, they still accept the offer. Both of them have been taught to accept anything that's free.

"So what exactly were you doing?" Gilbert asks once they're all sat with a drink in their hands. "I mean, to blow up your house."

"Oh, just an experiment." Francis waves his hand nonchalantly, sipping his drink, and nods when a curious Antonio asks is he's an alchemist.

"And how many times have you blown up buildings?" Gilbert keeps asking, mockingly.

"… four," is Francis' whispered reply.

Gilbert bursts out laughing and Antonio, too, chuckles at that. Francis doesn't seem to be offended at all; actually, he ends up laughing with them.

As the afternoon slowly turns into evening, the three of them talk and laugh and drink. It's been a long time since Antonio has laughed —or even smiled— like that. Even though their personalities differ quite a lot, he finds himself enjoying his time with Francis and Gilbert. The blond ignores them every once in a while to flirt with whatever woman happens to be walking by their side; and the albino seems to take every chance he has to praise himself ("Hey, if I'm going to be the only one who says nice things about myself, I might as well do it awesomely!"). They're definitely outlandish, and also the reason why Antonio suddenly thinks that maybe coming to town wasn't a bad idea after all.

Soon they have had one too many drinks. Francis begins to tell them about his experiments, using words that none of his listeners understand; later, inevitably, he ends up talking about women.

"I was with this amazing girl once," he says with a dreamy gaze. "Jeanne. She liked alchemy too, and she used to tell me the most interesting things."

"Like?"

"Like— did you know that apple and pear seeds can kill you?"

"No way," Gilbert snorts.

"It's true! They have a substance that turns into cyanide in your body." He stops for a moment to take a long swallow of his drink. "Of course, it'd take like fifty of them to kill a grown-up man— but they can kill you, it's my point."

"Why did you break up with Miss Know-It-All?"

"Well," Francis chuckles, "I think she didn't like that I set her house on fire."

For the next few minutes, all that can be heard is Gilbert's loud, eccentric laugh. Francis punches him, albeit weakly, and wakes up to grab a few more drinks. When he comes back, Gilbert practically launches himself over him to snatch one of the jars and drinks avidly. Laughing sure makes him thirsty.

"Now that you're done laughing at my disgrace," Francis says after a while, "how about you tell us about your love life?"

"Me?" he snorts. "Unfortunately, there's no one who deserves my awesomeness," he says smugly; but then he sinks a little in his chair and adds: "Really, though: do you think anyone would sink low enough to date me?"

Francis shrugs. "I bet my left arm that there's someone you're mildly interested in, even if they're not interested in you."

To their utter surprise, Gilbert blushes at those words. It's very faint, but his skin is so pale that there's no way to hide it.

"Ah, looks like I get to keep my arm," the blond chuckles. "So who's the lucky lady?"

"Her name's Elizabeta," he mumbles. "She's awesome— not as much as I am, but pretty close. But I can't have her because she's engaged to a shithead called Roderich."

"Such a tragic love story." Francis wipes a fake tear from his eye. "You know what you should do? Wait for their wedding, and when the priest says: _If anyone has an objection why this man and this woman should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace_ ; you interrupt them and confess your love to her; then the two of you run away and get married somewhere else and start a new, wonderful life together!"

Gilbert looks at Francis, blinking slowly, as if he's trying to process everything the other has just said. A few moments later, he smirks. "Nah, forget it, man. I've already accepted that I'll die alone." He clearly doesn't like being the attention focus —when it comes to that particular topic, obviously—, so he turns to speak to the one that hasn't said a single word since the topic was brought up. "What about you, Antonio? Are you married?"

Antonio stiffens at the question. He glances from the table to Gilbert, from Gilbert to Francis, and from Francis to the table again. "I was," he finally whispers.

None of them miss the deep sorrow in his voice, and they realize a bit too late that they've touched a rather sensitive topic.

"Not anymore?" Francis asks softly, curious nonetheless.

"Shit happened; she left," Antonio mumbles before downing what's left of his drink.

"Where is she now?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. But I've missed her for seven years already."

"Seven years?" Gilbert whistles. "That's more than enough time to get over it! Seven fucking years… Dude," he states, "you need to get laid."

Antonio lets out a snort that wants to resemble a laugh. If Gilbert had known Alice like he did, he wouldn't think seven years is enough time to get over her— she was just too overwhelming, too perfect. Thankfully, Francis —who's much more tactful than Gilbert— is quick to bring up another topic. Soon, the laughing resumes and the previous chat is forgotten.

~{§}~

It's late when the three of them leave the bar, stumbling and colliding against the walls. Gilbert, who has proven to be quite resistant to alcohol, is in the middle, supporting Francis' whole weight and occasionally grabbing Antonio when he's about to fall.

"We should do this another time," Francis yawns against Gilbert's shoulder. "It was fun."

"I can't promise that the next time I'll walk you home like now," the albino warns, snickering. "If there's a next time, at least know when to stop drinking."

"I never know when to stop."

"I'd say that the appropriate moment is when you start to flirt with a coat rack."

"… did I do that?"

"Twice."

"Oh."

After a moment of silence, Francis begins to laugh and is soon followed by Gilbert. Antonio joins after a while. He has to admit that he has enjoyed himself. The men that walk by his side are odd and eccentric, in a good way, and he's surprised that he's got to know them so well in just one night.

Gilbert has a little brother who he loves above anything else, even though he never tells him. He likes sausages and beer. He fancies a moderately wealthy girl who's engaged to a disgustingly rich lord. He has a pet canary named Gilbird. He has been mocked and bullied since he was little for his outlandish skin colour. He doesn't have a proper job, so he helps with the chores at home and tries to earn money at every chance he has because he hates feeling useless. His self-praising attitude is nothing more than a mask that hides insecurities he's not allowed to show. Despite everything, he doesn't lose his joy towards life— although there's a lot of alcohol involved in that.

Francis is a hopeless romantic who dreams of finding true love— but still flirts with any woman —and man— at any chance he has. He cares about his appearance more than he admits. He's also a brilliant alchemist who can tell apart thirty-six chemicals just by the smell; and another couple of dozens if colour is involved. He's refined and well-mannered, yet he can drop some of the bawdiest jokes Antonio has ever heard. He has a younger brother to whom he's not blood-related, but he couldn't care less about that— he loves him deeply anyway. He has some sort of sixth sense and somehow always knows what to say to make others feel better. Life hasn't always treated him well, but he's a genuinely good person who cares about others more than himself.

They finally reach the alley in which they have met merely hours before. Francis suddenly stops his monologue about inner beauty versus looks when he recognizes the place. Then he looks up. "Oh, crap," he laughs drunkenly. "I forgot I blew up my house."

Antonio and Gilbert look at each other before they, too, burst out laughing. The brunet awkwardly pats Francis' shoulder, babbling something like "you can still live there; you'll only be in trouble if it rains".

"You can come to my place," Gilbert offers, hiccupping. "I'm sure Ludwig won't mind. And if he does— fuck him, I'm the older sibling."

"That so _niiiiiiiiice_ ," Francis launches himself over Gilbert and hugs him, tears in his eyes, and Antonio can't help but wonder if he's always that melodramatic or it's just that he's way too drunk.

"I don't think you'll be allowed to stay for long, though."

"Tis okay. I'll ask Mathieu to take me in for a while."

"Just try not to burn down his house," Antonio jokes, earning a hurt look from a pair of clouded blue eyes.

"Very well, let's go!" Gilbert grabs Francis by the hip and pulls him closer, throwing the blond's arm over his shoulder. They walk —or rather, Gilbert walks and drags Francis with him— for a few meters before they stop and turn to look at Antonio. "You'll be okay on your own, right?" the albino asks.

"Sure." He's not really sure that he'll manage to find his way back to the inn, but he trusts his luck. "Good night, guys."

"Night."

"Sleep tight, 'Tonio! You beautiful human being, you! I love you! You're great and wonderful and lovely and—!"

Before Francis wakes up the whole neighbourhood by proclaiming his undying love for Antonio, Gilbert starts walking and drags him away.

Once again, Antonio is alone.

~{§}~

He's wandering around the empty streets. He's not lost, not really, because he doesn't care where he is. All he cares about is that the world is quiet and peaceful and, for once, his thoughts are silent as well. The alcohol must have played its part, that's for sure, but it feels so good that he doesn't mind at all. He'd drink all he can stand and more if it meant that this inner peace would be permanent.

After some time, however, he begins to think about Alice. There's something different this time, though: he's not sad or depressed, or at least not as much as he used to. No, he's approaching the subject in a much more objective way. He wonders what would his life be now if things had happened differently. If they would still be happy together had certain events never occurred. Is she happy somewhere else with someone else or does she miss him as much as he misses her? How would she react if they met again? How would _he_ react?

He's pulled out of his thoughts when a small body crashes against him. Surprised, he looks down and sees a little kid, not older than eight, who returns his gaze. Antonio is shocked. What is he doing alone at night? Is he running away from home? Is he lost?

The kid mumbles an apology, dodges him and goes on, not even looking at him twice.

"H-Hey, wait!" Antonio calls and runs after him. He stumbles and curses the alcohol that's still in his body. "Wait!" He finally catches the kid, who looks at him with an annoyed frown. "Are you lost or something? Can I help you?"

The boy shakes his head. He doesn't seem to be the talkative type— or perhaps he's been taught not to talk with strangers. Either way, Antonio is a bit lost. The kid is different from any other child he has ever met, there's something odd about him, and he doesn't know how to react. On the one hand, the boy doesn't seem to need —or want— his help; on the other hand, letting a kid go on his own at night doesn't sound very sensible. Not that he trusts himself to look after a child, being intoxicated as he is. Fortunately, he's saved from having to take a decision.

"Alexander!" someone calls, and the child instantly runs to the man that's walking towards them. "Alexander, how many times have I told you to stay by my side?! You know it's dangerous to go on your own!" the man scolds. Then he looks at Antonio. "Thanks for finding him—" he stops abruptly.

Because of the low light, Antonio can barely see the other man's face, but he seems to look at him with eyes wide open; it's only for a brief moment, so brief that Antonio thinks that he must have been tricked by the alcohol, because almost immediately the man is frowning.

"You're welcome," Antonio mutters, not sure of what's going on. "Is he your son?"

"Yes."

The light is poor and Antonio can barely see the man's face. There's something odd about him, but the alcohol clouds his mind and he doesn't know what it is.

"Alexander, we're going. Come."

"Yes, Papa."

The kid grabs his father's hand and they walk away. The man is walking so fast that his son has to run to keep up. Antonio watches them leave and, for some reason, he feels some sort of _déjà vu_ , like he's lived something similar before, but he quickly rejects the thought. He'd remember clearly if he had met such a peculiar kid. _Alexander_. The word echoes in his mind. _That's a beautiful name_. He suddenly feels like crying.

After the accidental meeting, Antonio doesn't feel like resuming his stroll, so he heads back to the inn. He gets lost once or twice, turning left one street before he should or forgetting to turn right at some point, but it doesn't take him long to get back.

He stumbles inside the inn. The hall is empty— of course, normal people are asleep that late in the night. However, a light catches his eye, and he follows it to find Emma behind the counter. She's pouring herself a drink.

"Oh, I thought you were already back," she throws an apologetic smile at him. "Otherwise, I wouldn't be doing this so carelessly."

"You are not allowed to drink?" he asks, walking towards her and sitting on one of the tall stools.

"Clients don't really like seeing their hosts drinking, or that's what my brother says." She takes a sip and offers the bottle to Antonio. "Would you like some?"

"Thank you, but no," he smiles. "I'm afraid I've already had more than enough."

"Really?" She raises an eyebrow, skeptical. "It doesn't look like it. I'd say you're just a bit tipsy."

He just shrugs and asks if he can have a glass of water instead. Emma immediately serves it. They soon engage in a pleasant conversation: Antonio tells her about Francis and Gilbert, and she seems to be genuinely happy for him. She mentions that he does look happier than when he arrived; Antonio doesn't know how to take that.

After Emma has downed a few glasses, she unconsciously begins to flirt with him again. At first, Antonio is tempted to get up and flee to his room. However, Gilbert's words from before echo in his head. _Dude, you need to get laid_. Can he do it? He knows that he's not ready to start a new relationship —actually, he thinks he'll never be—, but can he just have sex with someone who's almost a stranger? Can he spend one night with Emma and ignore the heartache?

He decides that yes, he can. In a dark room and with the alcohol slightly numbing his brain, he can easily pretend that his bed-mate is another green-eyed blonde. Besides, it has been so damn long since he last slept with someone, and he misses waking up with a warm body by his.

So when Emma holds his hand and intertwines their fingers, he doesn't pull away. When Emma leans over the counter and kisses him, he kisses back. When Emma gets up and guides him to her room, he follows without a doubt.

Even if it's just for tonight, he wants to try and forget about everything.


	3. Then (II)

**Then (II)**

 

Antonio was ecstatic.

He had feared that Alice would reject him, that she'd slap him and leave to never be seen again. As it turned out, however, she returned his feelings, and nothing could have made him happier.

"Are we a couple now?" he had asked her a few days after their first kiss.

She had rolled her eyes, hit him, and told him not to ask stupid questions. Then she had kissed him again and Antonio's heart began to beat so fast that he feared it would jump out of his chest.

The best part was that they didn't change their habits at all: they still met and strolled, read, talked, argued over the stupidest things… The only differences were that now they held hands while they strolled, they snuggled together when they read, and kissing had been added to the other activities they did daily. What hadn't changed, and none of them wanted for it to, was the friendly bullying between them —mostly directed towards Antonio, though—.

"Today's a special day," Alice informed.

"Is it?" Antonio frowned. He tried to understand what she meant, but he couldn't think of anything. "Why?"

"Come with me," she said, motioning for him to follow her.

Antonio complied, not knowing what was happening but trusting Alice nonetheless. Although, thinking about it, he knew it wasn't a sensible thing to do— she could be _very_ twisted sometimes.

Alice guided him through the forest, past their reading spot and to the creek. When they arrived, Antonio quickly saw something new: a weird-shaped bulge stood right by the water, covered by a piece of fabric.

"What's that?"

"A tombstone," Alice replied calmly, as if it were obvious.

"A tombs—? Why the heck would there be a tombstone here?" After a few seconds, he asked the question that frightened him the most. "Whose is it?"

"Don't you know?"

"I— No, I don't know! Should I?"

"Yes, you should," she pouted.

Before Antonio could keep asking, she reached the tombstone in two quick strides and pulled the cloth that covered it. He had to move closer to read the epitaph; when he did, he felt like killing Alice. The badly-shaped rock read: _In loving memory of_ Invencible _ten years after it sank. Forever in our hearts_. He stared blankly at the words for a while before gaining back the ability to speak:

"I hate you."

"No you don't," she snickered.

For some reason, Alice loved bringing back the topic of _Invencible_. Perhaps it had something to do with Antonio being unable to leave it behind and reacting hilariously every time she mentioned it. That wasn't the first time —and probably wouldn't be the last either— that she had poked fun at him for it.

"Yes I do. I hate you very, very much."

"You hate me because I remembered _Invencible_ 's death anniversary and you didn't."

"I hate you because you _killed_ _Invencible_ ," he retorted. "There would be no need for _that_ ," he pointed at the rock, "if it weren't for you." He crossed his arms before his chest and pouted. "You're an evil, evil person."

"And you're such a sore loser."

"At least I don't cheat just to win."

"The end justifies the means, dear."

"Evil."

"And you love it."

Decided to turn the tables, Antonio suddenly leapt forwards and wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing their bodies together. "Well, maybe I do love it," he purred.

Just as he expected, he took Alice completely by surprise, and enjoyed seeing her turn red, overwhelmed by the sudden proximity. He twisted his lips in a weird blend of a smirk and a loving smile. It hadn't taken long for him to notice that Alice didn't like physical contact as much as he did, and had decided to use it to his advantage. After all, it implied that he got to hug and annoy her at the same time. It was a win-win.

"Antonio, let go," she complained, squirming in his arms, vainly trying to break free but smiling nonetheless.

"How about no?"

"Antonio—" she whined.

It was then when he realized that, because of Alice trying to escape and him not letting her, they had slowly moved until they were practically on the creek. A wicked smile formed on his lips just as Alice, too, noticed where they were.

"Antonio, I don't know what you're thinking but— Oh, no, stop that right now, don't you— _Antonio I swear I'll kill you_ ," she yelled hysterically as Antonio leaned forwards, making her lean backwards and threatening to let her fall to the water.

"What was that you asked me before?" he asked, teasingly. "Was it… to let you go?"

Their eyes locked, Antonio's amused and Alice's upset, and for a moment the whole world seemed to stay still.

"You better don't fucking do it," she whispered menacingly, stressing every single word.

"Do what? This?"

Before Alice could react to those words, she found herself without the support of Antonio's arms; the next moment, she was lying in the middle of the creek. It wasn't deep, but there was enough water to completely soak her, and being sat as she was, the water kept splashing her face. She faintly heard the sound of Antonio's laughter, a sound she usually liked— but not when she was the cause of it.

"You're dead," she stated.

Antonio, who was about to choke because he was laughing too hard, tried to run away; however, Alice moved faster than expected and caught him almost immediately. He yelped when her drenched clothes and hair came in contact with him.

"It's not so funny now, is it?" she smirked, dragging Antonio back to the creek. He didn't put up much of a fight, since he was still laughing breathlessly, and Alice could easily drop him in the water. "I must admit that, from this perspective, it is rather amusing," she chuckled.

"I know, right?" he managed to say.

"You're an idiot."

"I know," he smiled brightly at her.

"Get out of there, you wanker," she ordered, looking away as she felt her cheeks blushing, "before you catch a cold."

"Yes, ma'am!"

They left the creek and walked for a while until they reached a small clearing in which they could let the sun dry them. Antonio sat on the ground and tried to drag Alice with him, but she pushed him away.

"What?" she said when he looked at her with a sad pout. "Last time you hugged me, you dropped me in a river. Who knows what you'll do next."

"Come on, you can't deny that we had fun," he argued, stretching his arms towards her and trying to put his best kicked-puppy face. "Pretty please?"

Alice sighed. Those big, bright, green eyes were her biggest weakness. She gave up and moved to Antonio's side; immediately, his arms hugged her and pulled until she sat on his lap.

"Should I make it up to you?" he whispered in her ear, making a shiver travel down her spine.

"I don't know. How do you plan to do that?"

He smiled and moved his head forwards until their foreheads touched. Then he just stood there, looking intently into her eyes, her doing the same, until Antonio broke the silence with a simple question:

"Can I kiss you?"

"I don't recall you asking for permission the first time," she pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

"That was a special occasion," he chuckled. His fingers reached for her face and gently caressed her lips. "May I?"

"I thought I told you to stop asking stupid questions," she replied before closing the gap between them and kissing him.

They kissed for a while until Alice decided that she had had enough human contact for the day and pulled away. Antonio pouted and complained, although he knew she wouldn't change her mind, and then he laid down, closing his eyes and enjoying the feel of the warm sunrays on his skin. He heard Alice laying down with him; by pure instinct, his hand reached for hers and held it tightly. To his surprise, she didn't pull away this time.

"We should do this more often," he mumbled, already half-asleep.

"The napping or the pushing each other to the creek?"

He laughed.

"Both."

~{§}~

"Pick a card."

Antonio's hand moved from left to right, ghosting over the cards displayed in front of him, until he decided and grabbed one.

"Look at it carefully and remember it."

"Okay."

"Done?"

"Yes."

"Great. Don't forget it! Here, put it somewhere in the deck and shuffle it."

He did as he was told, frowning, dead set on cracking Alice's magic trick. He shuffled the deck for a long time; he even turned his back to his girlfriend so she couldn't see the cards. Once he deemed it enough, he gave the deck back to her, who took it unimpressed and separated it in three smaller decks.

"Now I want you to focus on your card. I want your card to be the only thought in your thick skull," she commanded, ignoring the indignant scream her words provoked. "Are you focusing?"

"Yes," he grunted.

"Alright, then…" She began to move her hand over the three decks, her eyes looking steadily at Antonio's. "Your card is not in this one." She discarded one, taking it and moving it aside. "Hmm— it's not in this one either. So it's in this one here."

"How could you possibly know that?" he complained. It was like the tenth time she had made the trick and he was only getting more and more confused each time.

"Magic," she winked. "So your card is in this deck…" she mumbled, displaying all the cards between them, facing the ground. "And your card is… this one."

She had picked one at random, at least from Antonio's perspective, but when she turned the card, he recognized it as the once he had picked at first.

"Am I right?" she asked with a smirk that clearly said that she already knew the answer.

"Yes!" he yelled, frustrated. "How do you do it?"

"Do you want to know? Are you sure?"

"Yes! Tell me!"

Alice pretended to consider it for a while. "Hmm— oh, alright. Come closer…"

Antonio quickly obeyed, leaning forwards as she did until their faces almost touched.

"So, the secret of this trick, huh? You want the secret, right? The secret of the magic trick, the trick's secret—"

"Alice!"

"Okay, I'll tell you…" She left a few seconds of suspense before whispering: " _The faeries tell me everything_."

Antonio's face instantly morphed into a mad pout. He frowned and pushed Alice away as she laughed.

"Don't joke with those things," he complained.

Alice was well aware that Antonio was rather superstitious, just as much as he was when they were kids, and often poked fun at him for that. She enjoyed randomly talking about mystical creatures and naming all the awful things they could do to humans. Once, many years ago, she had told him the story of a winged, mint-coloured bunny that would slither in houses inhabited by green-eyed or brunet people and kidnap them. Antonio had left crying and it had taken her a few months to convince him that she had made it up. Now that he was much older, Antonio could put up with Alice's horrifying stories, although that didn't mean that he was no longer scared by the unknown. He still looked around nervously every time Alice mentioned the faeries, as if he expected that a whole army of winged, tiny creatures would fall on them at any minute.

"Well, sorry, I'm not telling you the trick. It wouldn't be fun if you knew it."

"Whatever. I'm sure it's pure luck."

"Luck, really? Ten times in a row?"

"Otherwise, there's no way you could have guessed it."

"That's what you want to believe."

Antonio sighed and gave up. He was stubborn, but he knew Alice was it even more: if she didn't want to tell him the trick, he wasn't going to get it, no matter how much he insisted.

"Fine," he mumbled. "It's not like I want to know the stupid trick anyway," he said, although both of them knew it was a lie.

He fell silent and Alice couldn't help but feel a bit bad. She loved teasing Antonio, but she hated seeing him sad: it was as if the sun suddenly turned off.

"Hey, come on, don't be mad," she said, moving towards him and pecking his cheek.

"I'm not mad."

"And I'm a man."

"Really?"

"Yes, every full moon I grow a penis." She rolled her eyes and hit his head, but smiled when she heard him laugh quietly. "Are you mad at me?"

"No. Really, I'm not."

"Then what's with the sad face?"

"Harvest time is soon," he sighed. "I have to help my dad on the fields, so we won't be able to meet that often."

"Oh."

"Are you okay with that?"

"Yes, of course. It'd be so unfair for me not to be."

Antonio smiled and hugged her; for once, Alice didn't try to pry free. They remained like that for a while, silent, until they noticed that the sunlight was beginning to fade.

"I should go back," Antonio muttered, yet not showing any signs of wanting to get up.

"I'll walk you home."

"If you didn't, _then_ is when I'd be mad at you."

"I'll make sure to keep that in mind."

They still remained sat a few more minutes, none of them wanting to go. It was Antonio who finally stood up, mumbling something about not wanting his parents to scold him for being home too late, and Alice followed. They made some small talk while they walked, and they got so distracted that they barely noticed when they arrived to the edge of the forest, where they always parted. Antonio hated that part of the day.

"Is it just me or the walk here was shorter than usual?" Alice asked, looking around as if to verify that they were at the right place.

"So it looked like to me," Antonio chuckled.

"It's good to know I'm not crazy."

"Oh, you _are_ crazy. Maybe I am too."

She snorted and told him to stop saying stupid things; he replied that it was his true nature and that she couldn't try to change him. She snorted again, but didn't deny it. Then they decided when they would be meeting next, and Antonio kissed her before she could flee.

"I'm going to miss you," he whispered.

"Idiot," she replied.

"I know."

When Antonio crossed his home's door, he found his mother waiting for him with a not very friendly face.

"Do you think this is an appropriate hour to arrive?"

"Mum—" he whined. "I'm already eighteen!"

"As if you were thirty! As long as you live with us, you play by our rules!"

He groaned. It was always the same. Why couldn't his parents give him a bit of freedom? He was a grown-up, he could take care of himself!

"Where were you anyway?"

"In the woods with Alice," he answered as if it were obvious.

His mother sighed. Neither her nor his father were very fond of Alice: they had only seen her once from the distance, but had never even spoken to her, and hadn't been very glad when Antonio had informed them that they were more than just friends. They did nothing, though, because they had long ago accepted that there was nothing they could do about it. Antonio's stubbornness was something to be feared —not to mention that he always got so defensive when they even mentioned the idea of him moving away from Alice—.

"There's some bread and cheese for you to dine," his mother informed. "Eat it quickly and go to bed— you need to be well-rested to be useful during harvest."

"I know that," he grunted, already making is way towards the kitchen. "I know that very well."

~{§}~

Antonio ran to their meeting point, a bright smile in his face. Harvest time was over, and he couldn't wait to see Alice again. It had been tougher than he expected, not seeing her for a relatively long time, and he didn't think he could stand it any longer. That's why he was so disappointed when he arrived and saw that she wasn't there. He started to nervously pace around, and then suddenly something caught his eye: a piece of paper was nailed to a tree. He recognized Alice's handwriting and quickly read it.

"What the—?"

It seemed to be some sort of rules for a game he had never played before. He turned it around and saw there was more written, this time an explanation— more or less.

_Hello, Antonio! I hope you're in shape. There should be a bucket right next to this tree covered with a cloth. That one's yours; I have another one. Read the rules carefully, for I won't go easy on you. Good luck, loser, and let the game begin._

He checked and saw the bucket. It was big, wooden, and a bit heavy. He pulled the cloth and looked inside; as he expected, he saw it was filled up to the brink with a paste that was clearly mashed berries. Everything was so clear now.

There was a perimeter, two buckets and two players.

There was no mercy.

 _Oh, this is going to be good_ , he thought, folding the paper and sliding it into his pocket. _This is going to be sooooo good_.

He slid his hand into the bucket, testing the consistence of the paste, as he began to walk from tree to tree, paying attention to his surroundings, flinching every time he heard a sound. Geez, the game had barely started and he was already enjoying himself. He felt like one of those explorers he and Alice usually read about, ready to fight everything that stood in his way. He smirked. Oh, Alice was so going to regret having started that game. He was going to make sure of it.

To his utter disappointment, it was her who found him first. He had let his guard down after having been wandering around for a while without finding any trace of his friend, so he was shocked when she suddenly appeared from behind a tree, a wild smirk in her lips.

He yelped and moved to dodge the handful of paste Alice threw at him; unfortunately, he wasn't fast enough and it hit his leg, staining his trousers.

"You'll pay for that!" he screamed, hiding behind a tree and filling his hand with berry pulp from his own bucket.

"We'll see about that!"

He moved quickly and threw the paste with a precision that surprised even him. Alice saw it coming, but she barely had time to move and it hit her side. She recovered fast, however, and before Antonio could rejoice in his small victory, she counterattacked.

None of them knew for how long they ran one after the other, throwing mashed berries, laughing and taunting, and basically forgetting about anything else. By the time their buckets finally emptied, they both were covered in pulp, panting, and smiling.

"Well, who won?" Antonio asked, still recovering his breath.

"Me, of course," was Alice's smug reply.

Antonio rolled his eyes. From his point of view, Alice was much more stained than he was, but he knew there was no point in arguing over it. So instead he opted for running to her, hugging her waist and spinning her in the air. She let out a yelp of surprise and yelled at him to put her back on the ground. He complied, without loosening the hug, and kissed her forehead.

"That was a fun game," he said, smiling brightly. He then leaned to kiss her again, this time on the lips, and when he pulled apart, the words simply escaped his mouth: "You're great— I love you."

Alice's green eyes widened and looked at him in shock. She opened and closed her mouth, as if she wanted to say something but didn't know what, and only then did Antonio realize what he had just said. He, too, opened his eyes wide in shock, although he soon realized that he didn't regret having said it; Alice, on the other hand, didn't seem to know how to react or what to say. Softly, Antonio hugged her even more tightly than before, letting her bury her face in his chest.

"It's okay," he whispered against her hair. "It's okay, you don't have to say anything."

He felt her nod slowly, and soon her arms were around his waist. Antonio carefully caressed her hair, from time to time removing small pieces of berries from her golden locks, and only stopped when he felt Alice trembling in his arms. At first he thought that she was crying, but he quickly realized that no, she was actually laughing.

"What's so funny?" he asked, clearly confused.

Alice looked up at him, smiling playfully. "You smell like blueberries."

"Ah—!" He threw her an indignant look. "And whose fault is that?"

"Certainly not mine."

He laughed and kissed her again. "I think I'd better go clean myself a little, huh?"

"Yeah, I could use a bath too," she agreed.

Before she could escape, Antonio leaned and kissed her yet another time. When he pointed out that she tasted like blackberries, she smirked and said that it was his fault too; and Antonio, who was so stupidly happy, could only laugh at that.

The rest of the day passed normally, and when they parted at the evening, both could agree that it had been one of their best days together —and that was saying a lot—. As usual, Antonio tried to postpone his leaving; and as usual, Alice had to remind him that his parents would get madder at him with every minute.

"Okay, okay, I'm leaving already…" he finally accepted, yet still hugging her.

"Come on, dumbass," she chuckled, breaking free from his embrace.

Antonio pouted, but obeyed and turned around, walking towards the village. Alice watched him go, doubtful, until she made up her mind.

"Wait!" she called, running towards him. Antonio turned, surprised, just in time for Alice to hold his face and kiss him passionately. "Me too," she whispered when the kiss ended.

He frowned, confused, but it didn't take him long to realize what she meant, and soon his expression turned both surprised and blissful. Before he could say anything, however, Alice pulled apart, turned around, and quickly walked away.

Antonio's eyes never left her until she disappeared in the forest, a stupid smile on his lips and a dizzy fluttering in his chest.

~{§}~

"Don't open your eyes."

"I won't."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Really, really, really promise?"

"Antonio," she sighed, "I'm wearing a blindfold and your hands are over it. Even if I opened my eyes, I wouldn't see a thing."

"I just want to make sure— oops, sorry."

"Dammit, Antonio! If you force me to go blind, at least guide me properly!"

"Hey, I caught you before you fell."

"It would have been way better if you hadn't let me stumble in the first place."

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry."

"You better be."

"Here we are!" He removed his hands and the blindfold. "Happy birthday!"

Alice blinked, trying to get her eyes to get used to the sudden brightness, and it took her a moment to take in what was in front of her. When she did, her jaw dropped: they were in the place where they had first met; only that it was no longer just one more clearing. No, it had been decorated and taken care of to the point where there didn't seem to be a single strand of grass out of place. There were colourful pennants hanging from the trees, and on the ground a wide tablecloth was spread out. On it, there were a few baskets that, by the looks of it, were filled with food.

"Wow," she managed to say after a while.

"Do you like it?" Antonio asked happily.

"Yes, of course! Did you do this all by yourself?"

"Yup. You don't turn twenty-one every day," he replied, winking playfully.

Astounded, Alice let herself be guided to the tablecloth, and as soon as they sat, Antonio began to open the baskets. Just as she had guessed, there was food in them.

"Did you cook too?"

He nodded, more focused in displaying everything he had brought than in answering, and Alice felt she was about to start drooling. She liked to consider herself much better than Antonio in many, many ways; however, if there was one aspect in which Antonio widely outshined her, that was definitely cooking.

"And the final touch— tadaaa!"

To her surprise, Antonio opened the last basket to reveal a couple of wine bottles and a pair of glasses, which he placed between them.

"Where did you get that from?"

"I may or may not have stolen them from my dad's cellar," he answered, quickly winking at her while he filled the glasses.

"Uh, such a bad boy," she mocked, earning an innocent smile from Antonio.

"Me? Please, I'm such an angel."

She laughed; his smile widened.

They enjoyed together all the food Antonio had brought, which Alice had to admit was delicious, and none of them seemed to notice —nor care about— the hours ticking by. They had a lot of time to spend, after all.

The first bottle of wine was only half empty after they finished eating, and they both agreed that it would be such a shame to leave it unfinished. By the time the bottle was finally emptied, they had already decided that they wanted to open the other one. As time passed and wine was drunk, they got closer and closer, not entirely consciously, craving the other's presence. The kissing had begun way before; the touching began after the second bottle was opened. There were only a few drops left in it when Antonio found himself lying on his back, his hair tousled, his shirt open, and Alice on top of him, laying kisses all over his jaw and neck.

He huskily whispered her name and she pulled apart a little, just so they could look into each other's eyes. Her cheeks were red, both from arousal and the wine, and her lips, parted so they could let a hard breath escape, were so inviting that Antonio immediately pulled her down for a deep, intense kiss.

They acted more by instinct than out of experience. Antonio let his hands explore her body, tangle in her hair, worship her; Alice focused on kissing, sucking and biting all over his neck and chest. They were lost in each other, no longer aware of their surroundings: their whole world had been reduced to just two people.

Antonio was about to completely lose his mind when Alice suddenly pulled apart. He looked at her, confused.

"What is it?" he breathed out.

"Do you want to continue?" she asked quietly.

He furrowed while his numbed brain processed the question. Once he did, he sat up so he could look better at her face; and instead of answering, he asked another question:

"Do you?"

Taken aback, Alice looked nervously around until her eyes met Antonio's. Then she nodded, slowly.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Me too, then."

Their lips searched for the other's at the same time. When they met again, the small interruption was left behind as if it had never happened; with the small difference that now both of them knew what they wanted. This time it was Alice who ended up on her back, and she allowed it for a while until she fought to take control again. Although he put up a bit of a fight just for fun, Antonio ended up letting her; soon, he was once again the one pinned down against the ground.

It didn't take long for clothes to be discarded, for gasps and moans to become louder, for unquiet hands to grow bolder. It was a new experience for both of them, and they were certain of one thing, and one thing only: they were glad they were sharing it with the other.

Once it was over, they laid together on the tablecloth. Antonio briefly thought that he should clean it before going home or he may have to face some really awkward questions from his mother, but he quickly forgot about it when he felt Alice's body against his. As she rested her head on his chest, he hugged her tightly and began to caress her back, loving the touch of her skin under his fingertips.

"I love you," he whispered.

She didn't answer, but Antonio didn't mind— he wasn't expecting a reply anyway. After a while, however, Alice did speak:

"Did you have this in mind from the start?"

"No," he laughed. "Would you be mad at me if I had?"

"Right now, I couldn't even if I wanted to."

Antonio laughed again and pressed his lips against her forehead in a long kiss. He hadn't been happier in his entire life, and his mind still hadn't fully processed what had just happened. At the moment, he felt like he could achieve anything he tried; he felt unbeatable. That is, until the thought suddenly popped in his mind.

"What's the matter?" Alice asked, worried, when she felt Antonio's body going rigid and looked up to see a pale face.

"You— You're not going to get pregnant, are you?" he stuttered.

"Don't worry about that," she laughed lightly, relieved that it was only that. "I have my methods," she added, laying a kiss on his chest.

"Okay," he sighed.

They remained silent for a few minutes. Then Alice spoke again:

"Would it be that bad?"

"Hmm—?"

"If I got pregnant," she elaborated, realizing that Antonio had lost track of the conversation. "Would it be that bad?"

"Well— No, it wouldn't," he answered. To her surprise, he didn't sound unsure or scared. "It's just— Don't you think it's too early for that?"

"Yes, I guess it is," she agreed.

"Besides…" he trailed off.

Alice waited, but he didn't finish. She looked up to his face and saw _the_ expression. It was Antonio's thinking face, the one he put whenever he was pondering about something very important —in his opinion—: lost gaze, lips slightly parted, occasionally narrowing his eyes or mumbling something under his breath. She usually didn't interrupt him, but she was way too curious.

"Besides—?" she pressed.

Antonio got out of his stupor and turned to look at her so abruptly that it startled her; but before she could complain, a finger was pressed to her lips. She glared at him, immediately softening her gaze when her eyes met Antonio's: he was looking at her so lovingly, so intensely, that she felt her stomach twist.

Then he said something, and she thought that she must have misheard, so she asked: "What?" He repeated and Alice realized that no, she had heard perfectly what he had said.

"Will you marry me?"

Her jaw dropped. A part of her wanted to believe that Antonio was kidding, that he was about to laugh and hug her and mock her for having fallen for it so easily. Another part knew that he was dead serious.

"Do you even know what you're saying?" she managed to say.

"Yes, I'm very aware of what I'm saying." His hand moved and softly caressed her cheek, his eyes never leaving hers. "I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I'm happier with you than I am with anyone else, and I really can't imagine living without you by my side. So, Alice— will you marry me?"

Her face was on fire— she doubted she had ever blushed that much before. Stupid Antonio and his stupid proposal. Her head was spinning and her heart was beating madly; and Antonio's intense stare never leaving hers wasn't helping.

"Bloody hell," she muttered, closing her eyes, trying to calm down and gather up all the rationality she might still have left.

Antonio looked at her, avidly waiting for her answer. He didn't know how he had managed to speak so fluently; one may think that he had brought it prepared from home. It had all come out naturally, though, and he meant every single word of it. Now he could only wait and hope that Alice felt the same. When she finally opened her eyes, he swallowed and waited for her to speak.

"You're one of a kind," she smiled. "You ask me out by kissing me and you ask me for marriage by having sex with me."

He blinked slowly, not knowing how to react to that.

"That's different," she continued. "I like different. And I like crazy."

"Is that a yes?" he blurted out, fully believing that he would die if he was kept with the intrigue just one more second.

Alice smiled brightly and pecked his lips.

"Yes."


	4. Now (2)

**Now (2)**

Antonio wakes up with a terrible headache, and the sunlight that hits him straight in the face and the noise coming from the street only make it worse. He groans and covers his face with his hands. When was the last time he was hangover? And why is he hangover in the first place? Scattered memories from last night fly through his mind.

Gilbert.

Explosion.

Francis.

Drinking.

Emma.

His eyes open wide at the last one. Did he…? He scans his surroundings to confirm that he isn't in his room; and he also notices that he's naked under the sheets.

"Fuck…" he mutters.

Just what was he thinking? His first worry is that Vincent doesn't find out— he's perfectly capable of breaking his legs, or even chopping off a certain part of his anatomy. He breathes slowly, trying to calm down. There's no need for Vincent to know: he's not telling him, obviously, and he doesn't think Emma will either. Speaking of— where is she? He comes to the conclusion that she's attending her clients; the sun is high, so it must be past noon already.

Time to move.

He sits up, trying to ignore the sharp pain in his head, and looks around the room, locating all his clothes. With every movement he makes, he feels as if his head is about to explode, and his muscles are sore; he still manages to get dressed, even though he's positive his aspect is terrible. Emma surely has a mirror somewhere in her room, but he doesn't think she'll appreciate it if he starts prying.

"Ah, fuck it," he grunts, combing his hear with his fingers and straightening his clothes. It's not as if he has to make a good impression or something.

He stumbles out of the bedroom and walks to the hall. It's not very busy, so he easily spots Emma, who's cleaning a table on the other end of the room. He walks towards her, not knowing what to say but thinking that he should at least say hi. However, just as he reaches her and she finally notices him, all he gets is a hurt glare.

"Good mor—" he starts, but is immediately cut off.

"Get lost," she almost spits as she moves to the next table.

"What? Hey, what happened?" he asks, ignoring her order and following her.

"So you don't fucking remember. Great."

Antonio is so taken aback by Emma's hostile attitude, which is quite the opposite of how she's been treating him since he arrived. Why is she mad? Just what did he do?

"Look, whatever I did, I'm sorry, Emma, I—"

"Oh, so you _do_ know my name."

And then he understands. His mouth and eyes open wide in realization. _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit_. "Please tell me I didn't call you Alice," he almost whispers.

Emma doesn't reply, but her piercing glare is enough of an answer. She turns her back to him and keeps on cleaning tables, and Antonio feels more ashamed and guiltier than he has ever felt.

"I'm so sorry," he mutters, not sure if Emma is even listening to him. "I was drunk and I'm going through a really tough time, I never meant to hurt you—"

"But you did," she interrupts him, not bothering to look at him.

"I'm sorry," he repeats after a while.

A dense silence falls over them. Antonio knows that Emma doesn't want to talk anymore, and he doesn't feel like it either, so he mumbles one last apology and leaves for his room. Just as he exists the hall, he feels Vincent's cold glare in his back. He tries to ignore it as he walks away.

 _You fucking idiot, just what were you thinking, useless, dumb, good-for-nothing shithead_.

A tirade of insults who are meant just for himself fly through Antonio's mind. He's sat on his bed, his face buried in his hands, and he desperately tries to think how to make it up to Emma.

Deep inside, he knows there's no way he can do that.

 _Just because your life is crap doesn't mean you can go around ruining everyone else's, fucking bastard_.

Maybe he should just leave. Look for another inn, or give up and move with João; even go back home. Anything but staying there— not for him, but for Emma. She deserves better. She deserves to stop seeing him.

 _Yes, run away, you fucking coward_.

He wonders when his own mind became his worst enemy. Many years ago, life was easier: he was happily in love, he… He had a family.

Then comes the feeling. Some sort of alarm in his head, a silent scream that urges him to _remember_. There's something that doesn't feel right, something that is out of place, but he doesn't know what it is and it's driving him crazy. His mind is spinning, desperately trying to warn him, and he feels dizzy. His breathing becomes irregular, his heartbeat increases wildly, he's falling in a deep, dark pit—

Dark. Night. Last night.

Something happened last night. Not Emma, no, he already knows how he screwed up that one. Before that— the drinking? No, that was nice, he had fun, Francis and Gilbert were good people. After that.

Between the drinking and Emma. What did he—?

Everything stops as suddenly as it started when a pair of unknown voices echo in his mind.

_"_ _Alexander, we're going. Come."_

_"_ _Yes, Papa."_

Alexander. He was an odd little boy. It's not him, though, the one that has made Antonio go pale, but his father. He feels a cold sweat slide down his back as the blurry image that was the man's face becomes clearer with every passing second.

Messy blond hair. Thick eyebrows. Bright green eyes. Freckles.

That man looked just like Alice.

He has to find him.

~{§}~

"I need your help."

Gilbert blinks slowly, trying to understand why Antonio is in his front door looking as if he had just escaped from an asylum.

"Gilbert, please, I need you and Francis, this is _very_ important," he insists, almost begging to be let in.

"Is that Antonio I hear?" Francis' voice is heard.

Antonio is relieved to see that he's still there. "Yes!" he exclaims. "Please, Gilbert, please, I think I'm going crazy."

Finally, the albino shrugs and moves aside, letting Antonio in. He's not used to being the one people go for help— he's curious to see how this will turn out.

"Well, are you going to tell us what this scandal is about?"

They're in the small living room, Francis and Gilbert in a small couch and Antonio in a chair in front of them. It almost feels like an interrogatory.

"Don't press him, Gilbert," Francis scolds. "Let him calm down before he starts talking."

Antonio breathes slowly, in and out, in and out, as he tries to think how to tell the story without sounding like a lunatic. Although he wouldn't curse them if they thought he's one— he's starting to question his sanity too.

After a moment, he starts to speak; and he doesn't stop until he's told the whole story. He talks about Alice, about their marriage, about her leaving… and about her male doppelganger from yesterday. When he finishes, both Francis and Gilbert are scowling, intrigued.

"You think I'm crazy, don't you?" he sighs, rubbing his forehead with his fingertips.

"No," Francis answers quietly. "No, I don't think you are."

"What I don't get is what you need us for," Gilbert says. "Did you need someone who'd listen?"

"I—"

"You want to find that man, don't you," Francis says before Antonio can speak. It's not even a question. "You want to find out who he is and if he's in any way related to your ex-wi— to Alice."

Antonio nods slowly. "Maybe he knows where she is," he adds.

"I see."

Gilbert is about to say something when he's interrupted by a knock on the door. He sighs as he stands up and walks to the hall. "You know, everything sounds so weird. You might be getting into something dange—Who the fuck are you?"

From the angle they're in, Antonio and Francis can't see the person who's standing on the doorstep, but they do hear a quiet voice replying to Gilbert's greeting:

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm looking for my brother and I've been told he was seen with you last night."

"Mathieu!" Francis exclaims, recognizing the voice. "I'm here, _petit_ , come in!"

Despite the invitation, Antonio hears a shy "May I?" before Gilbert moves and makes way for Francis' brother to come inside.

"You had me so worried, Francis!" he says the moment he sees him. "I went to your house and it was completely wrecked!"

"Ah, yes, funny story…" he chuckles.

While Francis explains the events of last night, Antonio watches Mathieu, curious: he has wavy, blond hair, not as long as Francis' but pretty close, and his eyes are a strange shade of violet. He looks at his brother with a disapproving face, but his features are soft, like they're not used to frown. He looks like a nice guy.

"… and then Gilbert took me in," Francis finishes. "Oh! I didn't introduce you! Mathieu, these are Gilbert and Antonio; guys, my brother, Mathieu."

"Nice to meet you."

"Pleasure."

"The pleasure's mine."

"Okay, now that we're done with that, can we please go back to this man?" Antonio urges. "I can't waste more time!"

"Sure," Gilbert nods, sitting back on the couch.

Francis quickly explains to Mathieu what they're talking about, and he instantly offers to help, if he can and it's not a bother. When Antonio happily accepts, he sits on the couch next to Gilbert, ready to listen; however, just as he sits, he feels something pricking him and he jumps, startled.

"Auch! What the—?" He moves to pillows to find a small, yellow bird right where he had sat. "Oh, I'm sorry, little one!" he apologizes, taking it carefully and sitting again.

"So _that's_ where you were, Gilbird!" the albino exclaims, petting the bird with a finger. "You had me worried!"

The bird tweets and flies out of Mathieu's hands and onto Gilbert's head, where it huddles. He laughs and pets it again, ignoring his friends' quizzical glances.

"Alright, then, Antonio. What did the mysterious man look like?"

The question reminds Antonio that he has more important matters to think about than a cute bird on a dork's head. He focuses his thoughts on the man's face and describes his appearance from what he can remember. As he speaks, he doesn't miss how Francis' face become darker, and how he and Mathieu share a worried look; when he finishes, he's quick to ask: "Francis, do you know this man?"

The blond looks at him, his brow furrowed, and takes his time to nod. "His name is Arthur. He's a loner, and someone you don't want to meet."

"He's a bit scary, sometimes," Mathieu adds, "although he's not as bad as Francis wants to make you believe."

"Do you know where he lives?" Antonio asks, hopefully.

"Yes," Francis answers, glaring at his brother. "But really, Antonio, you should stay away from him. He's troublesome, he doesn't like people."

"I don't care! Dammit, Francis, can't you see how important this is to me?!"

Francis looks at him more seriously than Antonio has ever believed him capable of. Still, he holds his gaze with a determined scowl. Now that he knows that Francis can help him, he's not leaving that house until he gets him to do it. Or until Mathieu does, but he doubts he'll do it if Francis is against it.

"Francis, tell him."

They stop their staring game and look at Gilbert, surprised; Francis offended and Antonio grateful.

"Can't you tell how stubborn he is?" the albino goes on. "If he wants to find this Arthur guy, he will, whether you help him or not. So be a good friend— or drinking buddy, whatever you want your status to be— and help him."

The tense atmosphere dissolves: Francis sighs and sinks in the couch, feeling Antonio's hopeful gaze on him. "Oh, alright," he groans after a while. "But don't say that I didn't warn you if anything bad happens to you."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Antonio cries out happily, launching himself over Francis and hugging him.

He hears Francis yelling something about him being too heavy and uncomfortable; and he also hears Gilbert's loud laugh and Mathieu's quiet chuckle. Gilbird, who clearly doesn't like all the commotion, flies back to Mathieu's hands.

"Look at that," Gilbert winks at him, "he likes you!"

And suddenly Mathieu's cheeks turn red, to everyone else's amusement.

"I like him too," he mutters.

Gilbert laughs much less obnoxiously than usual, and Antonio and Francis share a knowing smile.

The foursome soon leaves Gilbert's house. Francis wants to guide Antonio to Arthur's place and be done with it as soon as possible, but his friend insists on going first to his inn. There, he picks up all of his stuff and checks out. Luckily, he doesn't meet Emma, but when he's about to leave, Vincent grabs his arm and with a deadly voice warns him not to go near his sister ever again. Antonio gulps, nods and leaves hurriedly.

Afterwards, they all follow Francis as he guides them out of town. Antonio is curious, he wants to know why Francis knows Arthur, but his friend ignores his questions and he soon gives up. He doesn't want to mess up his only chance of finding Arthur by prying too much. Since Francis doesn't want to talk, he entertains himself eavesdropping Gilbert and Mathieu's chat. They have hit it off right away, both of them seem to be comfortable in each other's presence, and he feels a wave of nostalgia hit him. Alice and him used to have the same bond. Hi silently wishes both of them a better luck than he had.

Francis stops when they reach the forest's edge and indicates Antonio how to go on.

"Follow that path. It should take you straight to Arthur's house."

Antonio looks carefully at the path Francis is pointing to. It's narrow and it doesn't seem to be easy to follow through the forest. Then again, he doesn't have another option.

"It looks so trustworthy, yes," Gilbert mumbles, and Mathieu elbows him.

"Are you sure you want to go?"

"Yes, Francis. I've never been surer of anything in my life."

"We can go with you, if you want," the albino offers, ignoring Francis when he yells that there's no way he's going.

"Thanks, Gilbert, but I'd rather go alone," Antonio smiles. He then takes a deep breath, straightens, and walks into the woods without looking back.

~{§}~

Francis said he'd arrive at Arthur's house. From Antonio's point of view, calling that a house is a bit of a stretch, although he can't help but feel impressed.

It's a giant tree whose trunk has been carved, by the looks of it. He spots what appears to be a chimney, and based on the steep mountain that's behind the tree, he imagines that there must be a cave added to the trunk.

He's so busy looking at the strange "building" that he doesn't hear the footsteps approaching; and he flinches, startled, when someone speaks behind him.

"I hoped that you wouldn't find us. Just my luck."

He already knows who he's going to meet when he turns, but that doesn't lessen the shock of seeing Arthur. He looks like Alice so much that it hurts, even more in the daylight.

"I even hoped that you'd be way too drunk to even remember us," Arthur adds, sighing. "I guess it was too much to ask for."

"Who are you?" Antonio mutters.

"My name's Arthur."

"I know that."

"Then why do you ask?"

"I asked who you are, not your name."

Before Arthur can reply, the door opens and Alexander comes running from inside the tree, happily calling his Papa, and Arthur kneels so they can hug. It's a tender scene, but it only makes Antonio's heart ache.

"What are you doing here?" the boy asks him, noticing him at last and looking at him with curious big eyes.

Antonio returns his gaze. "I just came to see your dad," he answers.

"Papa doesn't like strangers."

"This one's fine, Alexander," Arthur reassures him.

"It's Alex," the kid pouts.

Antonio takes this moment to study the kid's features. He has his father's big eyebrows and green eyes; and there are faint freckles on his cheeks too. His hair is darker, though; Antonio can't decide whether it's dark blond or light brunet. He's a cute kid, and he can tell that, when he grows up, he'll be gorgeous.

"I'll call you as I please," Arthur teases, ruffling his hair. "You can go play, as long as you don't go too far, yes? I'll stay here with Antonio."

"Okay!"

Alex laughs as he runs back into the house, immediately coming out with some wooden toys in his hands. Arthur watches him with a soft smile in his lips, which turns into a scowl the moment he looks back at Antonio: the brunet is looking at him with distrusting eyes, tense.

"What?"

"Why do you know my name?"

Arthur stares at him for a moment; then, he sighs and shrugs. "I should know it. You were my sister's husband, after all."

The words float over them. Antonio hears and understands them; he has a hard time believing them. Arthur is Alice's brother? That would explain why they look so much alike, but—

"She never mentioned a brother," he mutters.

"There are many things she never mentioned," Arthur replies.

Antonio is so confused. He wants to yell, to ask what he means, to demand answers to all his questions. But he doesn't, and when Arthur walks to his home and motions for him to follow, he obeys.

"Would you like some tea?"

"No, thank you."

Tea reminds him too much of Alice; and apples too. Although there's nothing that reminds him more of Alice than the man in front of him, to be fair.

Antonio sits at a table while Arthur makes some tea for himself. He has questions, many questions, but he knows —hopes— that he'll be getting his answers soon.

"How did you find us?" the blond asks while he sets the kettle over the fire.

"A friend told me how to find you."

"Is that so? There aren't many people who know where I live," he frowns. "May I know his name?"

"Uh— it's Francis."

Antonio flinches when Arthur drops a mug, and wonders a bit too late if he shouldn't have given him any names.

"Oh, the bloody frog…" Arthur grunts. "Of course it was him."

"Why do you two know each other anyway?"

He's really curious, but the blond shuts his mouth tightly and doesn't give him an answer, all his attention focused on making his tea. When he finally finishes, he sits across Antonio, a steamy mug in his hands, and looks him in the eye before speaking.

"About that you asked before," he starts, "I'm Alice's brother. Twin brother, to be precise."

"You said before that there are many things she never mentioned. Like what?"

"I thought you already knew it," he says, raising an eyebrow.

"Well I don't," he scowls. "Do you know where she is now?"

"Where she is now?" Arthur repeats. He sounds surprised. "That depends on—" he trails off.

"Depends on what?"

Antonio doesn't get an answer. Arthur looks a bit shocked, and he can almost see the gears in his head moving. He just assumes he doesn't know Alice's whereabouts, although he can't understand why he reacts like that to such a simple question.

"May I ask you something?"

"You already have," he points out, slightly mad. It should be the other way around; _he_ should be the one making the questions. But he's the guest in Arthur's house, and maybe he has to earn his answers, so he waves his hand in a gesture that presses Arthur to go on.

"Can you tell me what happened that day?"

He doesn't need to be more precise. Antonio knows perfectly which day he's talking about. The brunet moves nervously in his chair, his chest suddenly in pain.

"I thought you already knew it," he reuses Arthur's words from before.

"I do," he admits. "But I'd like to hear it from your lips."

Antonio stares at him, barely blinking. He doesn't understand why he's asking that all of a sudden. It's obvious that it hurts him to remember anything that has to do with Alice, why can't Arthur see that? Why does he have to ask that of him? Antonio has some great memories with Alice, and he wouldn't mind sharing some of those. But no, Arthur has asked about a day in particular, and Antonio doesn't know if he's strong enough to revisit it.

"Please," Arthur says softly. "I can't help you if you don't do this."

Antonio swallows. He crosses his arms before his chest, more in a self-hug than in a defiant pose, and his gaze gets fixed somewhere in the table. He takes some deep breaths before he starts speaking.

"She got pregnant. We both were ecstatic, you know? We were happily married, lived together in our own house, and now we were going to have a baby. I used to think that it was too good to be true." He snorts. " _That day_ was the day she gave birth.

"It happened a bit earlier than we expected, so we didn't have time to call the midwife. Alice did great and I helped and assisted her in all I could, but—" he takes a deep breath again, "despite all our efforts, the child was born dead."

Arthur narrows his eyes at that, but doesn't interrupt him; instead, he patiently waits for Antonio to go on.

"It was quite a shock. We were both so affected, and we had an argument. I don't even remember why it started, but it was a bad, bad argument." He lets out a sad laugh. "In a moment like that, we were supposed to support each other, not fight, don't you think? Yet we did fight. I— don't really remember much of it, it's a bit blurry. I was mad, and at some point, I don't know exactly how, I turned too fast and hit my head against the wall. I fell unconscious.

"When I woke up a few hours later, she was gone.

"And she never came back."

When he finishes speaking, there's only silence between them. Antonio is not sure how he's managed to tell the whole story without crying, although he feels a knot in his throat. His eyes leave the table to focus on Arthur, who has leaned back on his chair and is looking at him in a very weird way. He doesn't like the way those green eyes —so, so similar to Alice's— seem to read him.

"That's interesting," Arthur mutters, whether to himself or to be heard, Antonio doesn't know. "That's very, very interesting."

"What's interesting?" Antonio frowns.

"You ask way too much," Arthur says matter-of-factly, standing up. "I need to take care of something; you'll have your answers tomorrow. Can you wait?"

"Tomorrow? Why not now?" he protests, even though he knows it's futile.

"You can stay here for the night, as long as you can promise me you won't be a bother."

Arthur doesn't add anything else; he simply walks away and gets into a room. Antonio remains where he is, dumbfounded, unable to believe what's just happened. He can't help but feel that Arthur is playing with him, testing his patience, maybe trying to make him leave by evading his questions. He frowns. If he knows one thing for sure, it's that he's not leaving until he gets his answers.

It's been a long time since Arthur left him when Antonio finally moves. The inactivity makes him think, and his thoughts are all full of Alice. There's only so much he can take of it.

He goes out. His initial intention is to go for a walk, run, distract his mind. However, just as he steps out, he sees Alex playing with his toys. The child sees him too and waves at him. Antonio doesn't know why, but he walks to him.

"Hello."

"Hi! Did you finish talking with Papa?"

 _Not really_. "Apparently, yes."

"Then you can play with me!"

Before Antonio can refuse, the boy has jumped to his feet and is shoving a wooden soldier into his hands.

"Take this one! His name is Blas, and mine is called Edward. They're rivals."

"Why did you give me the bad one?" Antonio protests, looking at his toy: one of its legs seems to have fallen and it's weirdly stuck back with what looks like resin, it has one arm crushed and burnt, and half of his face has been erased, so it only has one eye. The one Alex has, on the other hand, is brand new. "It's not fair!"

"Why do you call it _the bad one_? Blas is just as good as Edward; even better, because he's seen more stuff."

"But if they fight face to face, your soldier would destroy mine."

"That's why Blas doesn't fight— _he's a strategist_ ," he whispers, as if he were telling him a secret.

"And Edward is a warrior?"

"No, he's a strategist too, but compared to Blas, he's a better fighter and a worse strategist."

Antonio nods, understanding. He decides that he likes Alex: he's well-mannered, cheerful— and too cute. He finds himself smiling, his thoughts about Alice completely forgotten.

"If they're both strategists, they should have an army to command," he points out. "Where are their armies?"

"Here," Alex smiles mischievously, pressing his finger against his temple.

They're so into the game that they only hear Arthur calling them when he comes fuming out of the house. He scolds them harshly, complaining about how he's been yelling for them for over five minutes, and about how the dinner he's put so much effort in making is going to get cold and he doesn't even care because they deserve it for irresponsible.

"Sorry, Papa," the boy apologizes, downcast. "Antonio and I were playing and having so much fun and we didn't hear you."

Those words seem to appease Arthur, who sighs and tells them to come inside.

The dinner turns out to be burnt bread, overcooked meat and undercooked vegetables. So Alice's awful cooking skills were a family trait, after all. Antonio doesn't eat much, since it's been too long since he last ate something like that; Arthur and Alex, on the other hand, eat to the point of repeating.

Later, Antonio tries to ignore the yearning of his heart as he watches Arthur putting his son to sleep. He tucks him in bed while the boy relates everything that Antonio and him have done, and Arthur listens carefully, from time to time commenting something; then, he sings to him until Alex falls asleep. Arthur kisses his forehead before exiting the room.

"You can sleep over there," he says to Antonio in a low voice, not wanting to awaken the kid. "It's not very comfortable, but it's better than nothing."

"Will I get answers tomorrow?"

"Yes."

That's all Antonio needs to go lay down. He falls asleep as soon as he closes his eyes, and he dreams with strategists and warriors.

~{§}~

The next morning, he's woken up by a pair of tiny arms that shake him mercilessly. He groggily opens his eyes to see Alex leaning over him.

"Good morning!" he greets happily. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes," he yawns, "I did."

"Get up," Arthur orders from somewhere Antonio can't see. "Breakfast's ready."

They eat burnt toasts and salty biscuits, and Antonio seriously starts to fear for Alex's health.

"Papa, what are you going to teach me today?"

"We're not having class today, Alexander," Arthur answer, tiredly. "I still have some things to talk about with Antonio, you can go play."

"Okay!"

Once they have finished breakfast and Alex has gone outside, Antonio looks at Arthur and waits for him to speak. The blond, however, asks him to hold on a minute and gets into the room from yesterday; when he comes back, he's holding a glass filled with a weird drink.

"What's that?" Antonio asks, puzzled.

"You know, I found your story so curious," Arthur says, apparently ignoring his questions. "It had me thinking what could have possibly happened, and I reached the conclusion that you were so affected by the trauma—"

"I don't have a trauma!"

"— that your mind came up with a fake memory to help you cope with it."

Antonio swallows his protests, taken aback by those words. _Fake memory_. Is that even possible? And if it were, what could have possibly happened? He doesn't know if he wants to find out. Arthur keeps talking, not giving him time to let his words sink in.

"I stood up all night preparing this," he says, rising the cup. "It will make you remember exactly what happened." He stretches his arm and offers the cup to Antonio. "Are you willing to drink it? Don't worry, I'm much better at making potions than I am at cooking."

If that last line was supposed to be a joke, it crosses Antonio's mind unnoticed. His brain is too busy trying to process all that he's been told to care for a lame joke. He looks into Arthur's eyes, which are framed by heavy dark circles —he didn't seem to be exaggerating when he said he had been awake all night—, and slowly reaches for the cup. He doesn't drink it, though; he looks at it instead, thinking, and then returns his gaze to Arthur.

"Will I like the memories?"

"No," Arthur answers, so direct and honest that it shocks him. "But you came to me for answers, and there you have them."

Antonio looks back at the cup, then at Arthur, then at the cup again. And then he drinks it all at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> History lesson time! If you knew after whom Alex's toys are named, kudos! If not, here's the explanation: they're named after Blas de Lezo and Edward Vernon, almirants of the Spanish and English navies back in 1741. What the hell happened in 1741? The English sent a huge fleet— huge, ginormous, the biggest mankind had ever seen until Normandy, 180 ships (the oh-so-famous Armada Invencible "only" had 126) commanded by Vernon to take Cartagena de Indias, knowing that, if it fell, the whole Spanish Empire fell with it. And Blas de Lezo, who was missing an arm, a leng and an eye, defended the city with only six ships, outnumbered in soldiers by eight to one, and basically humiliated the English navy. Lezo died barely weeks after having defeated the English, and his last will was to place on the walls of Cartagena de Indias the following placard: Before this walls, England and its colonies were humiliated. Yet everyone remembers 1588 and the "defeat" (which can't be considered that, but I'm not going to get into it) of the Great Armada (it wasn't even called "Invincible", for starters), and nobody bothers to even mention 1741 and Blas de Lezo. And that's why I wanted to have them make a cameo *ends rant*


	5. Then (III)

**Then (III)**

 

The wedding was small: just the priest, the groom and the bride, and not even ten guests. Antonio and Alice didn't need —nor want— more.

Just as they had promised, Antonio's parents behaved and didn't complain about his son being too young to get married; and just as she had promised, Alice made an effort to be nice and keep her sarcastic remarks to herself while she talked with his parents. Still, the atmosphere turned a bit cooler when they were close, so Antonio tried to keep them as far away as possible. To his delight —and surprise—, Alice got along quite well with João, which made everything much easier: while he was with ones, his brother kept the other entertained.

"I'm sorry I'm not with you all the time," Antonio apologized after having managed to run away from his parents.

"Don't worry, it's okay. We're going to have a lot of time to be together from now on."

"Till death do us part," he smiled.

"Or until I get tired of you," she joked before kissing him.

The guests left early, little by little, until the only ones left were Antonio, Alice and João. The three of them were a bit tipsy, so they occasionally fell into fits of laughter as they chatted about banal things.

That was easily Antonio's happiest day ever.

It was already dark by the time they decided they should leave, too. Antonio started to make his way to his house, but João stopped him before he could go too far.

"Wait! I still haven't given you your wedding gift."

Curious, the newlywed couple followed him as he guided them to the outskirts of the village; there, closer to the forest than to any other house, stood a cottage. It was big enough for two people to live comfortably, and it was in a perfect state, in and out. Antonio knew this, for it had been João's before he had moved to town.

"You're giving us _this_?" he asked, unbelieving.

"Yes. Anything for my baby brother," he winked.

"But—"

"No buts! Just take it, okay? I live in town, and I'm not coming back."

Not knowing what to say, Antonio launched himself over his brother and hugged him tightly. João laughed and patted his back.

"This is great! Thank you so much, João," Alice said, briefly joining the hug.

"It's my pleasure. Well, I'll be leaving now," he pushed Antonio away, as he didn't seem to want to let go. "I hope that your first night in the house is… comfortable," he winked at them and nudged his brother, who hit his shoulder, smiling. "See you, turtledoves!"

They watched him leave, both of them smiling gently. When his figure got lost into the village, Antonio moved fast: he grabbed Alice and picked her up bridal style. She yelped, surprised, but soon started to laugh a bit drunkenly.

"You'd better not let me fall," she warned, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Oh, such a little faith you have in me," he pouted.

A chuckle escaped from her lips as she leaned to kiss him. Antonio kissed back, and what had started tender soon grew hungry and passionate. When they finally parted, their eyes met, none of them bothering to hide a glint of lust.

"Shall we go in, my lady?" he purred.

"I'll never forgive you if we don't."

Carefully, Antonio stepped into their new house and their new life.

~{§}~

They soon became the town's official gossip topic, and they really couldn't care less. Alice had always been immune to everyone else's opinion about her, and Antonio didn't care what others said about him as long as he was with Alice. Besides, it couldn't be denied that they were an odd couple— even they accepted it.

It didn't help that they barely left their cottage except for occasional strolls through the forest. In Antonio and Alice's minds, that wasn't a problem. If they had no need to go to the village, why would they? They didn't mind what others said about them, but that didn't mean they liked being looked at, pointed at and talked about in whispers. So they stayed in their house, where they had an orchard, some chickens and, more importantly, each other.

It didn't take Antonio too long to realize that he loved watching Alice sleep. She looked so peaceful, her usual scowl replaced by a tranquil expression— sometimes even a soft smile, when she was having a nice dream or when Antonio whispered sweet nothings in her ear. He liked sleeping more than anyone, yet he started to remain awake and let Alice fall asleep first so he could look at her for a while. He took his time to take in her features, and by the end of the first month, he was certain that he could perfectly draw her face up to the last freckle just from memory. Of course, Alice knew Antonio pretty well, and she soon began to wonder why it suddenly took him so long to fall asleep. When she finally asked, he blushed and looked away.

"I like watching you sleep."

"Wow, that's not creepy at all."

"It is?"

"A little, yeah. Why do you do that?"

"You look so beautiful."

It would always be a mystery to Alice how Antonio could say those things so casually. It cost her a tremendous effort and a big dose of embarrassment to say the smallest of compliments— it just didn't suit her. Antonio, on the other hand, bright, cheerful Antonio made it seem so natural, as if he didn't even have to think the words.

Since Alice couldn't bring herself to say —or do— romantic stuff, she made up for her lack of romanticism with an extra dose of her never-ending sarcasm, sharp tongue and twisted mind.

"So I'm only beautiful when I'm asleep?"

"That's not what I said!"

His voice got squeaky when he was trying to defend himself from her fake accusations. It was _so_ amusing. Then again, although it took him some time, Antonio always realized she was just teasing and somehow managed to turn the tables.

"Well, when you're asleep, you're not being mean to me," he retorted. "Besides," he leaped forwards and hugged her by the waist, pressing their bodies together, "when you're awake, there are other things I like to do with you in bed."

Whatever. She loved it.

"Really?" She wrapped her arms around his neck, moving closer until their foreheads touched. "And what would that be?"

Before he could answer, she closed the distance between them and kissed him; when Antonio's reaction was to lift her, she quickly surrounded his hips with her legs, hooking them at his back for extra support, and let her fingers tangle in his hair and play with his soft locks as they kissed. She absently thought that she had stuff to do, but her mind went blank the moment her back hit the wall, her body trapped between it and Antonio's. The last rational thought that managed to make its way through her fogged mind was her wondering what did Antonio have that she just couldn't get enough of.

They didn't even make it to the bedroom.

~{§}~

"Now I'm going to water you so that you grow big and strong and give us the most delicious tomatoes!"

As he spoke, he carefully leaned the can over the plant and did exactly what he had said. His family always mocked his habit of talking to plants while he took care of them, but he had never stopped doing it— he firmly believed that kind words reached the plant and kept it happy, thus making it grow faster and better. When he was little, João had fun asking him how could a plant be happy —or unhappy, for that matter—, which angered Antonio. He would yell that everyone and everything deserved to be happy, including plants, and he'd claim that his brother was stupid if he couldn't see it. Actually, one of the reasons why he had befriended Alice so fast was because she, too, believed that.

"Aren't you going to sing to them?"

Speaking of… Antonio smiled and rose to his feet, having finished watering, and hugged Alice with one arm.

"I already did that yesterday," he answered. "What are you doing here?" he asked after a while. "I thought you were inside."

"Yes, I, uh, have to tell you something."

"Okay! Can it wait until I'm done watering the tomatoes?"

"Uh— yes, it can. But don't take too long."

"Yes, ma'am!"

He quickly pecked her cheek before resuming his task. Alice told him that she'd be waiting inside and left; knowing than Antonio's eyes were following her, she made sure to wave her hips seductively as she walked. That would surely make him hurry up. She had important news, after all.

Just as she had expected, Antonio was much faster than usual. He came in only a few minutes after her, happily humming a nameless melody, and she patiently waited for him to put the can back in its place. Sat in their bed, she pondered yet another time how she should deliver the news. It couldn't be too hard, right? Just two words were enough.

"So, what's it you wanted to tell me?" Antonio asked cheerfully, taking a chair and sitting on it in front of Alice. She looked at him with a weird face and he frowned, trying to guess what was going on. "You're not going to ask for a divorce, are you?" he joked.

"Of course not, you idiot," she replied, rolling her eyes.

"Good to know that. What is it then?"

Alice took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Two words. Just two. She fixed her gaze on Antonio's face, not wanting to miss her reaction, and then she dropped the bomb:

"I'm pregnant."

At first, Antonio didn't seem to react. He just stood there, completely motionless save for his blinking. His green eyes were glued to Alice's, and they remained there for an uncomfortable while until they quickly moved to her abdomen, only to later go back to her eyes.

"You're pregnant," he repeated, finally speaking. After she nodded, he left the chair to sit on the bed by her side. He nervously scratched his ear before pointing at her stomach. "There's a baby growing in there?"

"Last time I checked, that was the definition."

"We— We're having a baby?"

"Antonio," she raised an eyebrow, "I think you've been under the sun for too long. You're dumber than usual."

She was hoping that her words would make him react some more, but Antonio didn't even seem to have heard them. He was still looking at her belly, his eyes open wide and a funny expression on his face. For a couple of seconds, none of them moved. And then—

"I'm going to be a dad‼" Antonio cried out, jumping to his feet and hopping around the room. "I'm going to be a dad! I'm going to—!" He stopped mid-sentence and ran back to Alice's side. "How long have you know? Since when are you pregnant?"

Alice smiled, both of amusement and tenderness caused by Antonio's reaction. She held his hand, intertwining their fingers before answering: "I found out a couple of days ago. I just wanted to be sure before I told you." She stopped for a moment to kiss his cheek, loving the way his eyes shone with emotion. "I don't know since when exactly, though. A couple of months, maybe."

"This is awesome!"

Without even thinking what he was doing, Antonio tackled Alice into a hug, pushing her against the bed. She yelped, surprised, and repeatedly hit his shoulder, screaming for him to be more careful.

"Oh, fuck, I'm sorry!" he apologized, letting her go and retreating so abruptly that he actually fell out of the bed.

"Dork," Alice muttered, rolling her eyes. Although she couldn't help but smile when Antonio's head resurfaced, his hair full of shag and dirt, an apologetic smile on his face.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"You hurt me with your stupidity, but I'm already used to that."

"Cool." He jumped to his feet once again, too excited to remain still for too long. "Oh! I'll make a crib; it can go over there! And— I'll make wood toys! And a mobile for the crib!"

Amused, Alice laid down on bed and watched him run from one spot to another, never stopping more than a couple of seconds, happily enumerating everything he could do. She was glad to have gotten that reaction, even more considering how he had panicked the day of the picnic.

Finally, Antonio seemed to calm down. Still with a wide smile, he laid beside Alice, hugging her carefully and laying as many kisses on her face as he could before she pushed him away with a grunt.

"We're going to have a baby," he sighed, closing his eyes and resting his head on her shoulder. His hand moved on its own and caressed her still flat stomach. "I'm going to be a dad."

"Yes, Antonio, yes," she chuckled, patting his head. "You're going to be a dad."

~{§}~

Antonio used to think that regular Alice was a lot to deal with; however, he changed his mind when he began to cope with pregnant Alice. He tried to make her feel comfortable and satisfy all of her cravings —which weren't precisely few—, but taking care of her proved to be a titanic quest.

"I want raspberries."

"Alice, it's like four in the morning."

"But I want raspberries."

"Alice, it's winter."

"But I want raspberries!"

"I think we have some strawberries left."

"Those aren't raspberries."

"But they're berries."

"Okay, bring me some strawberries."

…

"I've changed my mind. I want an egg."

It was exhausting, yet fun from time to time, and _so_ exciting. Antonio loved seeing Alice's belly grow: he spent a lot of time touching it and talking to it, telling his unborn child all the plans he had.

"… and when you're old enough, I'll take you to the creek and we'll bath and play and have so much fun!"

"Hey, slow down! I won't let you take the kid to the creek."

"What?! Why not?"

"The last thing you made that went there, sank."

"Fuck you."

"Oh, you already have; and I have _this_ ," she pointed at her bulging abdomen, "to prove it."

"Well," he kissed her belly to immediately after move up and kiss her nose, "I'm glad I did."

"And who wouldn't?" she said, smugly.

Antonio just rolled his eyes and kissed her.

One evening they were lying together in bed, Antonio absently stroking her stomach, when he finally asked what had been in his mind for a few days.

"Is it a boy or a girl?"

"No idea," she shrugged. "How could I possibly know?"

"I don't know. It's inside you."

"Yeah, well, there's a brain inside you and you still haven't figured out how to use it."

"Auch!" He looked at her half-indignant, half-hurt. "Are you ever going to stop bullying me?"

"Nope."

He leered at her before sitting up a little so he could look directly at her belly.

"I hope you're much nicer than your mum," he said to it, earning a punch on his shoulder. "I really, _really_ hope so."

"Oh, come on, I'm very nice," she pouted, dragging him back to lay at her side. "Am I not?" she asked, batting her eyelashes.

"What do you want me to say: the truth or what you want to hear?"

"It depends— do you want to live?"

"Awe, you always say the most beautiful things to me!"

"Jerk."

"Okay, can we please go back to the baby? I asked because we'll have to think of a name."

"True," she agreed. "If it's a girl…"

They fell silent, both of them staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. It was harder than they had believed— every beautiful name they could think of suddenly sounded dull and mundane.

"I like Elizabeth," Alice finally muttered.

"Isabel…" he repeated, translating it to his mother tongue. "Yes, it's great."

"And if it's a boy?"

The process repeated, but this time it was Antonio the one who broke the silence.

"How about Alejandro?"

"Hmm—" She pondered for a moment before nodding. "Alexander," she sighed happily. "That's a beautiful name."

"It is."

~{§}~

It was early in the morning when Alice broke waters. At first she wasn't sure what was going on— her mind said _sleep_ but her body screamed _WAKE UP_. She slowly opened her eyes, confused, and it took her some time to finally realize what was going on.

"Oh, come on," she grunted, throwing back her head and letting out an exasperated sigh. "Couldn't you have waited a couple of hours?"

Grunting, she sat up and began to —try to— shake Antonio awake. It wasn't easy, since he always slept so deeply that she was certain he could sleep through an earthquake.

"Dammit, Antonio, wake up!"

He groaned something incomprehensible and his eyelids opened just a small crack.

"It's still dark," he mumbled before closing his eyes again and moving into a more comfortable position. Because of this, he didn't see Alice's left eye twitch, which meant danger.

Five minutes later, Antonio dressed himself hurriedly, wishing that his ear would still function after Alice had screamed directly to it to wake him up. He couldn't be mad at her, though— the situation definitely qualified as an emergency.

"I'll go get the midwife," he said while he finished buttoning his shirt, not bothering to check that every button was in the correct buttonhole.

"Don't!"

He looked at her, surprised to hear despair in her voice.

"No time," she explained, breathing heavily. She was leaning on a bunch of pillows, neither lying not sitting, and had a pained expression on her face. "Don't leave now, please, don't go, I need you here."

If her tone wasn't convincing enough, her words sure were. Antonio had _never_ heard her plead like that; not once in the almost thirteen years they had known each other. That worried him. He quickly went back to the bed, held her hand and kissed her forehead, in an attempt to show her support and try to calm her down a little.

"What do I do?"

Panting, Alice gave him a bunch of scattered and incomplete instructions. Antonio listened carefully, not wanting to screw up, and did as he was told. He made sure that Alice was in the most comfortable position possible before starting to heat water, take blankets, and basically make sure he was prepared for any minor inconvenience. He sacrificed one of his shirts, cutting it to shreds and using the remains as bandages. Some of them were constantly being dipped in cold water and then plastered to Alice's forehead; the rest were kept in warm water.

He had barely finished preparing everything when Alice threw her head back, biting her lip so harshly than she started to bleed, and panted:

"It's coming."

Soon, the house was filled by pained screams and encouraging words. Antonio would have liked to give his hand for Alice to squeeze, but he was too busy trying to act as a midwife. Instead, he talked to her, softly, trying to sound much calmer than he felt. He couldn't have sworn that any of his words were reaching Alice's ears; and even if they did, he didn't think she would be paying any attention to them. But he didn't stop talking, not once, because he wanted his child to come into the world hearing kind words, and not only yelling and cursing. So he kept talking, reminding Alice to breathe and push, breathe and push, letting her know the wonderful, amazing job she was doing, crying out when he saw the head.

A long time passed, an eternity from Alice's perspective, until everything fell silent— except for a baby's crying. She panted, a few stray tears running down her temple, while Antonio cleaned up their kid and wrapped him in a blanket. He then walked to her, looking enthralled and the tiny new life in his arms.

"It's a boy," he whispered, his voice loaded with emotion.

Alice didn't say anything, too exhausted to even talk, but she did reach for him, smiling when Antonio carefully placed their son between her arms.

"You did great," he said, kissing her forehead. "You're amazing, did you know that?"

She nodded, biting her lip, all her attention focused in the baby in her arms. After a while, Antonio left her side and started to clean; and she took her time to look at her son, loving the way he frowned and moved his small hands, loving how his tiny fingers wrapped around her own, loving the fuzz of blondish-brownish hair on his scalp.

She absolutely fell in love when he opened his eyes.

They were a shade closer to Antonio's olive-green than to her emerald-green, but she could see in his gaze, even as a new-born, the same raging storm that shone in her own. It was beautiful.

She still couldn't decide whether Antonio being unable to see it was a shame or a bliss.

"Hello, Alexander," she whispered, gently rocking him. "Hi… Alex," she settled for the nickname. "Hi, Alex, I'm your Mama. What a time you've put me through!" She laughed softly, making the baby's lips twist into what could be considered a smile. "It's alright," she muttered, kissing him once, twice. "You're worth it."

Antonio, who had left for a moment to throw away everything that was too stained or wasn't useful anymore, came back that instant. He smiled tenderly at the scene and walked fast to the bedside.

"Can I hold him?"

"Of course. You're his dad," she winked, loving the way Antonio's face brightened at those words.

Carefully, she handed Alex over to Antonio, who took him as if he were the most fragile object in the world.

" _Hola_ , Alejandro. Hello, little one." He lifted him so he could take a better look at his face. "He got your eyebrows," he chuckled, making Alice roll her eyes. "What? It's true, look at these two tiny caterpi— Okay, okay, I didn't mean it! Don't hit me!" he laughed, moving out of her reach. "Awe, and he's got my eyes!"

Antonio's gaze got fixed in his son's eyes. They shone full of life, with the innocence only a new life can hold, and he got lost in them. He found himself unable to look away—

—literally.

He was suddenly nailed to the spot, his body ignoring every order it was told; he couldn't move, couldn't react. His head was spinning— he was scared. It took him a few seconds to realize that what frightened him was Alex's intense gaze. How could it possibly be so deep, even menacing? He wasn't even an hour old! It went against all logic, and yet Antonio was terrified of those eyes, that stare that burnt into his and made him feel weak. He faintly heard Alice's voice, but he couldn't understand her; all his senses were numbed, as if he were under water. Everything was fading to black, everything except for those scorching green eyes; he felt dizzy, he was afraid, he couldn't breathe—

Everything ended abruptly when Alice snatched Alex from his hands, making them break the eye-contact. Feeling both weak and confused, Antonio let himself fall to the floor. His breath had become irregular and his mind was still trying to find a logical explanation for what had just happened.

"What was that?" he asked, his voice trembling. He looked at Alice, suddenly worried about her, the feeling quickly leaving when he saw her: she was sat on the bed, hugging Alex, who had started to cry, whispering to him in a language Antonio didn't understand. "Alice?" he called, standing slowly.

She stopped talking and looked at him, her eyes filled with sorrow. She bit her lower lip and looked alternately from her son to her husband; when she finally answered, she spoke quietly, so unlike herself.

"He tried to kill you."

" _What_?! Why?" He paused, and then asked what scared him the most: "How?"

"He…" Alice started, gently rocking Alex to try to stop his weeping. She seemed to be about to cry, and that only frightened Antonio further. "He feels you're different," she finally said.

"Different? What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're not like him— Like us."

"Alice…" he said, tense, unconsciously taking a few steps back, "what are you?"

A dense silence fell over them. Even Alex had quietened, leaving the house uncomfortably silent. Alice helm him against herself, almost as a shield, and an eternity seemed to pass until she looked at Antonio with guilty eyes and answered his question:

"A witch."

Antonio backed away some more, trying to assimilate what he had just been told. He was being shaken by too many emotions at once— he felt shocked, unbelieving, betrayed. But if there was one feeling that stood above all others, it was fear. Had the situation been different, he would have been firmly convinced that Alice was mocking him again; now, however, after what had happened with Alex, that was impossible to believe. Still, his whole being rebelled against the thought of Alice being a witch, because they had known each other for so long, and she didn't fit the descriptions given in fairy-tales, and she had always told him that neither faeries nor anything remotely magical were real. And yet, when she looked at him with the most pained expression Antonio had ever seen her with, he had no choice but to believe it. The truth fell on him like a thousand bricks— he felt claustrophobic, he couldn't breathe, everything was too much. His eyes watered, and he couldn't pinpoint exactly what had provoked that. It was too much. Too much.

Alex whined in protest when his mother left him carefully on the bed, but she paid no attention. He was a new-born and he needed to be taken care of; however, at that moment, Alice had to attend another matter that, if not more important, was certainly more urgent. She left the bed and took a few tentative steps towards her husband, ignoring the sharp pain that came from her groin every time she moved.

"Antonio—"

"Stay there."

She stopped briefly, more out of shock for the order and the tone in which it had been said than anything else; not even two seconds later, she resumed her walking.

"Let me explain—"

"Don't come any closer!" he yelled almost hysterically, moving backwards until his back hit the wall.

Alice gave him a heartbroken look, but obeyed nonetheless and didn't move from the spot, even though she desperately wanted to walk to him and hug him; even though she wanted —needed— to feel his arms around her; even though she felt the urge to kiss him and promise that everything was going to be alright. Despite all this and more, she remained were she was, because Antonio was freaking out and she had to prove to him that he could still trust her, that she was the same girl he had grown up and fell in love with. She took a deep breath. There was a lot to say, a lot to explain, but first of all, there was at least one thing to reassure:

"I love you," she said, looking straight into his eyes.

At that point, Antonio was torn between running to her, hug her and never let go, or running away to never be seen again.

Unfortunately, he never had the chance to do any of those.

Alex suddenly started to cry again, much louder than before, and it somehow warned Alice that something bad was about to happen. She turned to her child just in time to see a shiny ball of pure energy leave him and go straight to Antonio. She heard her husband scream behind her, and more by instinct than anything else, she moved her arm and made a screen appear in the ball's trajectory. It effectively stopped it, but Alice soon realized that she felt too weak— she wouldn't be able to stop a second one.

That's why she felt so relieved when she felt a light tap on her shoulder.

~{§}~

Antonio's head was spinning. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, everything was happening too fast, and he wasn't sure he fully understood. He was paralyzed, and all he had been able to do when he had been attacked was scream. He was certain he would faint at any moment.

Then a creature came in, a small being with ethereal wings and a golden aura, and he instantly recognized it as a faery. He watched in awe as it flew to Alice's shoulder and leaned to whisper something in her ear. His wife turned, surprised but with a hopeful smile on her face.

"Arthur's coming?" she asked, her voice full of relief.

 _Who the hell's Arthur?_ , Antonio managed to think before Alex cried out again and caught his attention. He looked at the child — _his_ child, he had to remind himself— just as a second attack was launched at him. A scream didn't make out of his throat— fear had him nailed to the spot, completely paralyzed.

He closed his eyes and waited for the blow.

~{§}~

 _Arthur's coming, Arthur's coming, Arthur's coming!_ Alice couldn't think of anything that wasn't the imminent arrival of her twin brother. He'd most likely throw a disappointed look at her and condescendingly say _I told you so_ , but she was willing to pay that price if it meant that he could take care of Alex while she saved her marriage.

But then Alex attacked again.

At first, she lived everything in slow motion: the deadly ball going straight to Antonio; Antonio, who closed his eyes and remained still, save for the slight trembling of his body; the sudden realization that she was too weak to stop it again.

Her body moved on its own before her mind wasted a time they didn't have trying to come up with a solution.

The last thing she heard was Antonio's horrified scream.

~{§}~

He didn't know why he'd opened his eyes; it had been an impulse, maybe his subconscious deciding he wouldn't die with his eyes closed. One way or another, he wished he hadn't.

Antonio wanted to yell at Alice, tell her she was insane, ask her why she had done that; but all he could do was let out a wordless scream as she threw herself between him and the ball. His eyelids shut once again the moment she was hit— he didn't want to see, _couldn't_ see the outcome of the crash. He already knew what it'd be, and that alone was more than he could handle.

His wife's limp, lifeless yet still warm body crashed against his with such an impetus that it boosted him backwards.

His head hit the wall, and he sank into a welcoming darkness.

~{§}~

_Where am I?_

His cheek felt cold, pressed against a hard surface. He guessed he was lying on the floor.

_What happened?_

He made an effort to remember, and instantly regretted it. His head hurt and everything was a little blurry, but the last events replayed in his mind over and over. He whined.

_Now what?_

Green eyes opened slowly, barely enough to see. He recognized the room— he'd been living there for over a year. It was too tidy, though, considering what had just happened. He groaned when he opened more his eyes, since there was too much light; it blinded him and worsened his headache. Then, he saw him.

_Who are you?_

A man stood in the middle of the room. He wore dark clothes and a robe that gave him a mysterious look. He was facing the other way, but he somehow sensed the pair of confused eyes that watched him and he turned. There was a baby in his arms.

_Alejandro._

The child was asleep, tranquil and safe, and the man held him carefully against himself, occasionally patting his back or giving him little bounces.

_That's my son._

The man covered his head with a hood, hiding his face; when their glances crossed, however, he caught a glimpse of two bright, green eyes. They looked sad.

_Alice._

At first he couldn't see her. His eyes scanned the whole room until they landed on the half-open door. Through it, he could see a body covered by a white sheet. His eyes watered.

_Why did this happen?_

The man moved, catching his eye again. He had taken a step towards him, but immediately after had stopped and seemed to reconsider. Finally, without doing or saying anything, he turned and left.

The last thing Antonio saw before darkness engulfed him again was a man walking away with his son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was that heartbreaking enough? If not, stop for a minute to consider this: the last words Alice said to Antonio were "I love you"; yet the last thing he said to her was "Don't come any closer". Don't hate me :D All the blame should go to Alex though: he's the OC that started all this madness. And who the fuck is he, you may be wondering... Why, Gibraltar, of course! (You know, that rock in the strait between Spain and Morocco that Spain had to give to England in 1714 and has been trying to get back ever since. That one.)


	6. Now (3)

**Now (3)**

 

Antonio is sat on the floor, hugging his knees and crying, and has been like that for over half an hour already. It makes Arthur uncomfortable— he doesn't know how to act, what to do, what to say. So he just watches in silence as Antonio breaks down and becomes a sobbing mess. For a moment he wonders if it would have been better to tell him a white lie, but he quickly discards the thought. It wouldn't have been fair. Maybe he shouldn't have shown him the truth so abruptly, though; he could have prepared him a little. Arthur realizes it's too late to think of that.

Finally, Antonio seems to calm down. He's still curled up, his face hidden, buried in his arms, but at least he doesn't cry anymore, and he fights to calm down his breath. It still takes him a while to be able to speak; and he does so weakly:

"You said he was your son," he mutters, and Arthur doesn't know if that's a reproach or merely a remark.

"I raised him," he replies, shrugging. "He's my kid as much as he's yours."

There's nothing that can be argued against that. Antonio lets out a muffled sob and covers his face with his hands. He wonders how could he possibly forget something like that. Maybe Arthur's right and it's because of a trauma (although he'd rather use the term "intense shock"), and maybe the blow he took to the head had something to do, too.

His chest is in pain. He feels as though he's bleeding out, even though there's no physical wound, and he can't help but remember the time he spent playing with Alex the day before. At the moment, it had merely been a distraction; now, however, it's become a bittersweet taste of what could have been.

It's funny, how he can miss something he never had.

"I was there, you know," Arthur says then, pulling him out of his thoughts. He's by his side, resting against the wall, his gaze lost somewhere on the floor. "The day you two met."

"Really?"

"Yeah. We heard you cry, and she insisted on talking to you. I tried to tell her not to— but she never liked being told what to do."

A dry laugh escapes Antonio. That small reaction encourages Arthur to keep talking in an attempt to lift his spirit, as little as it may be. He can't help but feel responsible for Antonio's well-being; and even though they've only known each other for barely two days, he feels as if he's known him since much longer. After all, he had always been Alice's trustworthy confident, the one to whom she told everything, the one she trusted with her life. And while Antonio had slowly replaced him in that aspect, he still was the one who knew all of Alice's insecurities, the one who lied straight to their elder brother's face to cover her escapades, the one who had stood firmly by his sister as she faced a very angry Alistair, defending with a determined scowl a relationship none of their siblings approved.

"She wouldn't stop talking about you after that. It was annoying, to be honest, but I'd never complain— she looked so happy."

It was true: he couldn't forget the way her eyes shone full of life and her face brightened as she spoke nonstop, telling him what Antonio had done or said, laughing as she remembered a funny anecdote that she then tried to tell him but couldn't because her own laughter kept interrupting her. Arthur smiles fondly at the memory, but only briefly— soon, his face is sad again.

"I'm sorry I didn't make it on time," he almost whispers. "If I had hurried a little more, if I had arrived just one minute before…"

"It wasn't your fault."

"It was nobody's fault, yet everyone could have prevented it one way or another." Arthur stops for a moment to rub his face, as if trying to get rid of the tiredness. "When she got pregnant, I tried to warn her. It was something unheard of, and we couldn't ensure that everything would go fine. But she was very confident on her abilities, and she told me that she'd manage it. And she could have, I'm sure of it," he sighs. "She was very powerful.

"There were two things she didn't think of, though: first, that a wizard's survival instinct is very powerful, even as a new-born; and second, that giving birth would leave her exhausted."

He wants to keep talking, but Antonio speaks before he has the chance:

"Why didn't she tell me?"

He doesn't need to be more precise: he knows Arthur understands what he means. He hears the other man —his brother-in-law, he suddenly realizes— sigh quietly before replying.

"She was afraid she'd lose you if she did. After all, you were always scared of every magical creature."

"But I was never scared of her," he retorts, weakly. "If she had told me—"

"You would have stopped meeting her; out of fear at first, out of betrayal after you got closer." Arthur sighs once again and slides down the wall until he's sat by his side. "There's a reason why we try to stay away from humans. The chances of someone being hurt, be it physically or emotionally, are too high."

There's a faint hint of sorrow in his voice, and Antonio can't help but wonder if he speaks from experience. His mind flies to Francis, briefly, only to be distracted right afterwards by a bright flame that dance's on Arthur's palm.

"Fairy-tales have sure damaged our reputation," he snorts. His gaze is fixed on the fire, which gives his eyes a special glint. He starts to move his hand, giving a silent order, and the fire obeys: it swirls around his palm, slides between his fingers, warms but doesn't burn. Two pairs of green eyes follow its every move, ones tired and the others sad yet fascinated. Arthur goes on, knowing that Antonio won't miss a single word he says: "We don't kidnap and eat children; we don't go around cursing people; we don't demand to be given someone's first-born. We're just people with a high sensitivity towards Nature— with special abilities, if you like. We don't use them to hurt people, yet everyone believes those stories. So we just stay away and everyone's happy."

Arthur clenches his fist and the flame dies, leaving only a thin trail of smoke, and silence surrounds them once again. They faintly hear Alex as he plays outside; Antonio's face falls.

"He doesn't know, does he?"

Arthur shakes his head. "No, of course not."

"Do you plan to tell him."

He nods. "Yes. When he's older."

Antonio stands up and walks to the window so he can see his child. He stays there for a few minutes, trying to come to terms with everything he's been told. When he finally speaks again, his voice is shaky, uncertain, his gaze still out the window.

"We could tell him now," he almost whispers. "We could tell him now and then he could come with me."

"No."

Arthur's reply is dry, cutting, and Antonio rebels against it. He turns to face the other man, who has stood up as well and is scowling at him.

"Why not?" he yells. "Why can't he come with me? He's my son, he's—!"

"A hazard."

"What?"

They look at each other, determined Arthur and almost hysterical Antonio. The latter expects an explanation— he wants to know why he's not allowed to be with his son.

"The boy's a hazard, Antonio," he repeats, sending an almost patronizing look. "Because of his mother, he has a great power; but because of _you_ , he can barely control it. I have to look after him 24/7 to make sure he doesn't accidentally hurt others or himself. Not to mention _he's seven_. How can you even consider telling him that everything he thinks he knows is not true?"

"He deserves to know," Antonio replies, with more resignation than fight in his voice.

"And he will," Arthur reassures him. "When he's older and has more self-control."

Antonio doesn't protest. He looks out the window once again; then, at the place in which he slept last night. His mouth opens to ask a question, but he gets an answer before any sound makes it out of his lips:

"No. You can't stay."

Arthur shudders at the look he gets from Antonio— his eyes are so sad that he's tempted to give in. He quickly recovers, however, and crosses his arms before his chest. It's the best for everyone, even if Antonio finds it unfair. Just as he expected, he gets a quiet question:

"Why not?"

"It's dangerous, for both him and you. He may accidentally hurt you— he may _kill_ you. Just imagine what that'd do to him."

"I thought you can control him."

"I can," he admits, "but it's not as easy as it seems. You've no idea how many times he's accidentally set something on fire. Besides…" He stops for a moment. "You're his father," he finally says, "and while he doesn't know it, he's subconsciously drawn to you. He's not as friendly with any stranger as he's been with you, I grant it. And he's not stupid— he may discover the truth on his own if you stay around for too long." Realizing that Antonio is devastated, despite himself, he offers an alternative: "You can come visit. Not too often: once every couple of years, to be safe. But at least you'll get to see him."

Antonio has stopped looking —glaring— at him and is once again looking through the window. He seems to be in deep thought; Arthur decides not to bother him for a while.

"Think about it, okay?"

He barely notices when Arthur leaves. All his attention is focused on the kid that plays outside, unaware of who the nice stranger from yesterday is. Antonio wishes he could be that innocent again.

Alex is full of joy and energy— he runs and jumps nonstop, not getting tired of having fun. Antonio can't help but think he reminds him of himself when he was little. A small, soft smile grows on his lips. And he reconsiders Arthur's offer.

~{§}~

It's around noon when Alex hears the door open and sees Antonio leave the house, carrying his bag pack. He looks tired. The kid pauses his game and watches the man as he comes closer and closer.

"Are you leaving?" he asks, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice.

"Yes. Briefly."

"Okay. Goodbye, then."

To his surprise, Antonio doesn't keep walking— he just stays there, looking at him with a weird expression on his face. Confused, Alex is about to ask what's wrong when Antonio speaks:

"Can I ask you for a favour?"

"Yeah, sure!" he answers, his face brightening at the thought of having a grown-up require his help.

"It's a bit weird."

Alex shrugs. Antonio looks around, making sure that Arthur is nowhere to be seen, and takes a deep breath before making his request:

"Can I hold you?"

The boy makes a face and throws a questioning look at him. Antonio shivers, remembering the first time he looked into those eyes, but somehow manages not to show any hint of discomfort. After what seems an eternity, Alex shrugs again and walks to him. Antonio doesn't hesitate for a second— he picks him up and holds him tightly against himself. He's completely overwhelmed, and loses any self-control he had left when he feels a pair of slim arms wrap around his neck.

He feels a warm breath against his neck when an understandably confused boy asks him why he's crying.

"I remembered something," he answers, his voice muffled against Alex's shoulder.

"Something bad?"

"Yes."

Alex decides not to pry. He rests his head on Antonio's shoulder, awkwardly pats his back, impulsively kisses his cheek, until the man finally calms down.

"Do you feel better?"

He feels him nod and hears a faint "thank you" before he's back on the ground. His shirt is drenched on the spot where Antonio's face was; he rubs it in an attempt to dry it, and Antonio sends him an apologetic smile.

"I'll be going now. Take care."

"You too."

Antonio turns and leaves, feeling Alex's gaze following him until he's out of sight.

~{§}~

Arthur's mad at Antonio for leaving without saying a word to him. He had gone to clean and tidy his potions room, which was a bit of a mess after he had prepared the one for Antonio, and had accidentally fallen asleep. When he woke up in the afternoon, he was nowhere to be found, and Alex told him he had left hours ago.

"You couldn't have looked for me and let me know," he grunts while he angrily cooks —burns— dinner. " _Hey, Arthur, thanks for everything, it was so kind of you, I'm leaving_ — it's not too hard! And how about telling whether you're going to come back or not? Dammit, the next time I see you, I'm going to—"

He abruptly interrupts his rant when he hears Alex cry out. _What…?_ He quickly leaves everything he's doing and rushes outside, stopping on the door when he sees what the commotion is about: Antonio's walking towards the house, much calmer than Arthur would have expected him to be.

Alex runs happily to the brunet's side, resembling a puppy who sees his owner come back home. Antonio laughs and ruffles his hair, but doesn't stop— he keeps walking until he's standing in front of Arthur. Alex, who has guessed he won't be welcome there, has gone back to his game.

Arthur opens his mouth, to say hi or curse him, he doesn't know; however, Antonio speaks before he can:

"I'd like to ask you to do something for me."

Taken aback, Arthur needs a few seconds to react. That's not what he was expecting. He nods after a while, and Antonio smiles at him, grateful, twisting his bag pack around his arm so he can easily access it.

The first thing he pulls out is an envelope that, by the looks of it, has more than one sheet inside. The letter is addressed to _Alejandro_.

"Can you give this to him when you tell him?"

"Sure." Arthur answers after a brief moment, taking the envelope and hiding it between his clothes. To his surprise, Antonio pulls out more letters and hands them to him. "There's more?"

"I'd really appreciate it if you could make sure these letters reach their addressees."

"Okay…" he agrees, taking them from Antonio's steady hands.

"Thank you, Arthur," he smiles, sadder this time. "And goodbye. It was nice knowing you."

"You too," Arthur mumbles, not sure he fully understands what's going on. Lost in thought, he watches as Antonio turns and leaves. When he walks by Alex, he stops and kneels; then, smiling much brighter than he's done in years, he takes an apple out of his bag and hands it to him. Alex happily accepts it and hugs Antonio, who returns the hug, chuckling, and kisses his hair. He then stands up, fondly pats his head, and leaves. Alex waves at him, and then runs to Arthur's side.

"Papa! Look what Antonio gave me!"

Arthur barely acknowledges his presence; his mind is somewhere else. He does give him a one-armed hug, absently, his eyes not leaving the path Antonio has walked away.

As if he has read his thoughts, Alex asks: "Is he going to come back again?"

Arthur tightens the hug.

 _I doubt it_ , he thinks.

"Yes, maybe," he says.

~{§}~

The moon is full, and Antonio is grateful for that— otherwise, it'd be so difficult to walk through the forest. Although he still trips and falls from time to time, he doesn't stop his walking not even once.

He bites another apple and a melancholic taste floods his mouth. Alice loved them, and she ate them so often that the taste would linger to her lips. Antonio remembers how excited Alex has been after receiving an apple, how his face has brightened up, and for a moment he lets himself dream: of his house, his home, his beautiful wife and their beautiful kid; of how happy they could have been. He's not even sad anymore— he doesn't feel anything.

Inevitably, since his thoughts are his only company, his mind begins to drift through the events of the last two days. Inevitably, he ends up thinking about the letters he's written.

The first one was for Alex. He doesn't know how old his son will be when he receives the letter, but he trusts he'll be old and mature enough to go fully honest with him. The first thing he tells him is that he mustn't feel guilty— Antonio can't say that he understands everything that happened that day, but he knows it wasn't Alex's fault. However, he wishes Alice and him had had the chance to raise him. _I would have spoiled you rotten_ , he confesses in his letter. (The ink had smudged in some parts because of some treacherous tears that escaped his eyes while he wrote. He hopes Alex won't mind.) And he also tells him a story— the story of a kid who found the love of his life by getting lost in a forest. He wishes Alex gets to live something equally amazing.

The second letter was for João and his parents. This one is much shorter: just a brief explanation and an apology. He hopes they'll understand.

The third one was for Gilbert— and Francis, although his name isn't written on the envelope. He thought that Arthur wouldn't be willing to deliver a letter to Francis. At first, he wasn't sure why he was writing to them— after all, they have only known each other for a couple days. He did it nonetheless, because he knows that, had they met under other circumstances, the would have become the greatest of friends. He has told them this, and he's sure they'll agree. Besides that, he says a couple of things to them in particular.

To Gilbert, he advices to go for it and ask Mathieu out, because he may miss his chance and he'll regret it forever. To Francis, he suggests that he visits Arthur and talks to him. He doesn't know what happened between the two of them, but he believes they can talk things out. It won't be easy— they seem to be very different, yet Antonio believes they complement each other. More or less like he and Alice used to.

~{§}~

The sun has barely risen when Antonio reaches his destination. He has walked nonstop since leaving Arthur's house, all night, eating only apples and thinking about way too many things. Exhausted, both physically and psychologically, he sits heavily on the ground, resting his back against a tree. His tired gaze travels around the clearing, around that small part of the forest that has some of his fondest memories linked to it. He wonders for a moment how would his life be like if Alice had never talked to him, if she had followed her brother's advice and they had never met. One thing's for sure: his heart wouldn't be aching as much as it does now.

He still decides that he wouldn't have had it any other way.

The early sunrays caress his face and he closes his eyes, enjoying the warm feeling, while blindly reaching for his bag and opening it. There's one apple left.

He eats it calmly, somehow managing not to think about anything else, letting himself be distracted by the birds tweeting and the breeze blowing and the leaves rustling. He hasn't felt this peaceful in years.

When he finishes the apple, he keeps the seeds on the palm of his hand. Carefully, he fishes a small leather pocket out of his bag and empties it on his palm. There are too many, so a few of them fall to the ground, but he doesn't mind: Francis said it'd take around fifty, and he has over sixty. Just to be sure.

He begins to eat them, absently, one at a time, while he lets his thoughts fly free.

One, two, three.

João.

Eleven, twelve, thirteen.

Mum and Dad.

Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three.

Francis and Gilbert.

Thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three.

Arthur.

Forty-one, forty-two, forty-three.

Alex.

Fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three.

Alice.

Sixty-one, sixty-two.

Antonio closes his eyes once again, and welcomes darkness with open arms.

**FIN**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me :D


End file.
